Polyjuice, Memory Charms, and More
by Deadwoodpecker
Summary: This is a compilation of all of my one-shots. Most of them are sexy.
1. Adventures with Polyjuice

Ginny Potter stared down at her long, slender fingers, completely enthralled

Ginny Potter stared down at her long, slender fingers, completely enthralled. She wiggled them, just a little, and felt almost dizzy. Her brain had sent the command, yes, but she was currently inhabiting the body of her husband, controlling his body (though he would say that there was nothing different about today as opposed to yesterday or last year) caused a deep thrum of desire to suffuse her (Harry's) limbs.

"Harry?" Hermione said sharply. Ginny dragged her eyes away from contemplating Harry's fingernails. The tone of Hermione Weasley's voice made it quite clear that the other witch had been trying to get "Harry's" attention for some time now.

"Er -- yes?" Ginny said. _Even talking feels different_, she thought to herself. Her voice seemed to rumble up from some deep place in Harry's chest that simply did not exist in her own body. It gave her chills, and Ginny wondered how Harry concentrated at all when he spoke... it sent pleasurable little jolts to her stomach. Her cock -- _her cock! _-- twitched again, and she moved her thigh, so the soft fabric of the boxers she wore beneath the robe would pull tightly across it.

She'd pretty much been hard since they took the Polyjuice Potion an hour ago -- before they'd stopped at the Burrow for dinner and to torture each other with this sexual adventure -- and she'd started to discover little tricks to make her erection feel better than it already did. A happy little sigh escaped her lips. What a wonderful idea her husband had! She was going to have to spend the next few weeks... possibly the next few years... rewarding him for saying "But I want to know what it feels like for you!"

"Harry!"

"Sorry," Ginny colored. "I'm just really distracted..."

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Ginny answered quickly. This had been the wrong move. She noticed, with a sinking feeling, that Hermione's eyes had narrowed in characteristic suspicion. _She knows! _Ginny thought wildly. She never should have suggested trying to masquerade as each other in front of their family... it was too dangerous, especially with Hermione the Terrier on the scent.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Ginny and Harry had been teasing each other sexually in front of others for years now. They'd both gotten quite good at non-verbal spells that could send a jolt of heat to a specific place on each other's body. Ginny liked to tease Harry with not wearing knickers every once in a while... and he, in turn, liked to tease her with putting on the handy Invisibility Cloak and taking advantage of her naked state. They'd gotten increasingly confident, and the time -- just a few weeks prior, in fact -- when Harry had made love to her under her parents' table (under the Cloak, and silenced) starred in her fantasies. It had been strange and arousing to hear voices and see legs walking around while Harry had been thrusting into her from behind...

But this seemed to be pushing it. These people knew both of them very well, and it was only a matter of time before they figured it out. Sweat beaded on her brow, and Ginny realized with a mixture of relief and disappointment that her erection had gone away.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she said. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"That's all right, Harry," she said. "I know you have that anniversary surprise --"

"Shh!" Ginny said loudly. At any other time, she would've jumped at the chance to find out why her husband had been acting incredibly mysterious this last week. She would beg for hints -- Hermione would refuse -- and then Ron would let something slip, just enough for her to have an idea. It was like a ritual, and Harry was fully aware of it (sometimes Ginny thought that he instructed Ron on what, exactly, he could say), and she didn't want it spoiled. "Not here, Hermione!" she added in a fierce whisper.

"Ginny isn't even around," Hermione said in a normal voice. "She went upstairs a while ago."

"She could walk in at any -- she isn't around?" Ginny swivelled her head from side to side, eyes narrowed. She had a suspicion that he was cheating. And if _he _was cheating, _she _wanted to cheat, damn it. Harry was, in fact, nowhere to be seen. George and Ron chatted in the corner while Angelina tried to make baby Fred laugh. She saw the corner of her mum's robes twist out of sight toward the kitchen, and she could hear her dad accepting a Floo call from Kingsley Shacklebolt.

All this meant that Harry was upstairs, alone with Ginny's body.

"I need to go find her," she mumbled, standing up. She vaguely wondered how Muggle men (who generally wore tight pants) did not embarrass themselves. She was very grateful for the robes, as the erection had returned with almost painful intensity. She couldn't wait to touch it... her palm itched with the urge to stroke it. Her hand was actually moving toward it--

_No, Ginny, _she told herself sternly. _Harry would never forgive you if Hermione saw him touch himself._ She ignored the smaller voice that came back with: _but he's breaking the rules too!_

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said waspishly. "How do the two of you manage to go to work? You've been married for three years, and you still can't keep your hands off each other!"

"I go visit him at work a lot," Ginny said distractedly. It was not until Hermione gasped loudly that Ginny realized what she'd just said. "I mean... I -- er -- she comes -- I go to her," she furiously tried to backpedal, but the throbbing thing in her boxers made things all the more difficult. She felt a wave of compassion for Harry -- how many times had he told her that he couldn't concentrate when he was aroused?

"Ginny Potter!" Hermione's mouth gaped open in shock. Already, she was starting to laugh.

"Quiet!" Ginny hissed. She glanced nervously at Ron and George, but neither of them appeared to notice.

"The two of you are completely insane," Hermione said in a low voice. "I suppose this explains why Gin -- I mean Harry -- kept putting _his _elbow in the butter dish. The two of you..."

"This is the first time we've done this," Ginny said. "We just wanted to know what it felt like... you know. Arousal. Orgasm."

Hermione's eyes sharpened with interest. She turned her head and gave Ron a lingering look that traveled from the top of his head, paused in the middle for long moments, and continued on to his feet. She cocked her head. "What a remarkable idea," she murmured. Her cheeks turned pink.

"It's pretty amazing," Ginny said. She was torn between wanting to stay and chat with Hermione (they generally told each other everything, though they both pretended that they weren't talking about Harry and Ron), and going upstairs to find her husband. "You should try it. You'll have an easier time of it, making the Polyjuice Potion."

"I --" Hermione began.

"Keep looking me like that, and we're going home right now," Ron said loudly from across the room. Hermione's blush deepened, but she lifted her chin and kept her eyes on her husband. Ginny took advantage of Hermione's distraction (she suspected that the two of them would be gone by the time she came back downstairs) to make her escape. She took the stairs two at a time, and felt a sharp flare of desire when she "accidentally" brushed her hand up against her erection.

She knew right away that Harry was getting up to something in Ginny's old room. First, the door was shut. Her mother never closed it anymore, claiming that having it open helped the air flow through the Burrow. Ginny was almost certain that she was lying, but could not think of any other reason for this to be so. Second, Ginny could only get within one inch of it.

She grinned. Harry was being remarkably careless. She pulled out her wand and whispered, "_Finite Incantatem!_" The charm around the door broke silently, and Ginny pushed open the door--

And found Harry in Ginny's own body sitting on the floor up against the bed, legs spread wide and hand in between them. He was staring avidly into the mirror he had propped up against the opposite wall, and did not appear to have noticed her entrance. "Sorry," he said quietly. He knew she was there, he was simply too intent on his task. It was odd to hear his inflection with her voice.

"Couldn't help yourself?" Ginny grinned wickedly. She closed the door, and added three charms to the door: Silencing, Impenetrable, and Imperturbable. She watched intently as Harry continued at his task. He did not appear to be pushing himself to orgasm... his fingers swirled and dipped and stroked as if he were trying to memorize every sensation. She felt a frisson deep in her stomach that was more than lust or desire... it was incredible, watching Harry worship her body in a completely new and different way.

She pulled her robes off, and let her boxers drop to the floor. Her erection sprang free, slapping against her belly. There was a roaring in her ears as she gently stroked it from the base to the tip. She felt dizzy and her eyes unfocused. It was... somewhat similar to what she felt when aroused, but different at the same time. She could not describe it, even to herself, and now she understood why both she and Harry had found it nearly impossible to find the words to describe the difference.

She edged over until her calf brushed up against Harry's shoulder. She saw herself full length in the mirror. Tall, slender, slightly pale, and pointing straight at her was Harry's penis. She stroked it again, and felt her breath hitch in her throat. She used her fingernails on it, and sighed. He really was the most beautiful man in the world. She took her hands off his penis, and stroked his chest and his arms, watching with delight when his penis bobbed when she brushed against his nipples. It was as if everything was connected to it, every nerve ending. She felt it throb, and she moaned each time it did.

She turned to the side and watched in the mirror as she rubbed in earnest. She loved seeing it in profile...

"Do you want to have sex?" Harry said hoarsely.

She glanced down at him. He was staring in the mirror, and when she looked that way again, she met her own brown eyes with his green ones. She suddenly knew what she wanted. "Use your mouth."

"Only if you do it to me... er, you... I'm having issues with how to think of your body," he admitted with a little chuckle. "Is it my body while I'm in it? Is it yours?"

"It's your body, Harry, wasn't that in the vows?" Ginny said. "Though I know what you mean. It feels weird to think 'my penis'. I'm touching _my penis_. I'm stroking _my penis_. I want to know what a mouth feels like on _my penis_..."

"Weren't we supposed to wait until we got home?" Harry smirked.

"Too torturous... we overestimated our ability to not jump in bed," Ginny said sadly. She sat down on the bed and parted her thighs in invitation for him to put his head there before she remembered that the mechanics of a blow job were entirely different when one was male. He didn't appear to notice, but scooted over until he knelt in between her legs.

"This is," he announced, "one of the weirdest things we've ever done."

"I'm quite enjoying myself," Ginny said. He flicked her erection gently, slapping it against her stomach again.

"I can tell," he grinned up at her. "I wouldn't go down on myself for just anyone, you know."

"Of course I --"

But then he opened his mouth, and she felt the warmth, the gentle suck, and the firm grip of his hands -- which were really her own. Her arms immediately started to tremble, and her hips thrusted forward by their own volition. Husky grunts came from her own throat, and she felt the most amazing tightening in her balls. It took all her will to keep her eyes open... they wanted to slam shut. Harry's head -- her head -- bobbed up and down between her thighs and she couldn't hold it in anymore --

She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, low and hoarse, "Harry." The orgasm nearly sent her falling off the bed with its immediate intensity... it charged into her with the force of the Hogwarts Express, and left her feeling intense pleasure, and the immediate desire to go to sleep. _Now I know why he wants to roll over and go to sleep_, she thought dreamily. She blinked her eyes open, and let them close again.

"Don't go to sleep," Harry warned. He sounded highly amused, as if he wanted to say "I told you so." It had taken almost a year for Ginny to break Harry of that habit. Now that she understood the pleasant heaviness of his eyes and limbs, she felt a little bad for that.

"How... is it like that every time?" Ginny asked. She was still panting.

"Not always," Harry said. "It's not as good with the hand. And it's better during sex. Also, it feels better if you last for more than ten seconds."

"I couldn't help it," Ginny said. "It was like -- and then -- I couldn't -- _Merlin_, Harry. That was bloody incredible."

"My turn," he said firmly.

Ginny did not know how she could possibly force her (Harry's) limbs to cooperate and give her own body (and Harry) an orgasm with the same intensity as what she had just felt. She felt a little disoriented and shaky in the aftermath. She was so tired... how could she possibly do it?

"And now you know why I always, always let you go first," Harry said. "This is what happens."

Ginny chuckled. "Poor Harry. You're such a hero, and I had no idea..."

She enjoyed the sensation of doing something that Harry had often done to her, but he was far too large for her to do to him: she hooked her hands under his elbows and drew him up and kissed him. It was bizarre, to feel her own lips moving against lips that also felt like hers. She wrapped her arms around her own body just the way she liked and finally understood exactly why Harry always said that she fit perfectly against him. She knew that _he _fit perfectly against _her _but to feel it reciprocated and rebounded... suddenly she wasn't quite as tired as she was moments before.

"I hope I'm good at this," Ginny said doubtfully. Harry moved to lay down and opened his legs.

"If I can give a blow job..."

She waved her hand. "I imagine it doesn't take much finesse with men."

"Just do what you like," Harry said. He looked at her intently. She had a feeling that he would be cataloguing her every move and watching her like a hawk. For reasons completely unknown to her, Harry needed affirmation that what he was doing felt good for her, that he was a good lover. It wasn't as if he was insecure... just considerate and giving and unselfish and wonderful.

And because she wanted to show him that she appreciated the little things that he did for her, she put aside the weirdness she felt about going down on herself. She spread his legs wider, leaned in, and blew gently on the heated flesh. He did that sometimes, and it was like a signal that he was going to draw out the pleasure as much as possible. Then she nuzzled him. He'd done that the first time they'd ever had sex. She'd been embarrassed that he was seeing her fully for the first time... but he'd leaned over and nuzzled her and it had been so tender a gesture that she'd forgotten her embarassment.

She took a finger and tickled the moist folds. She grinned to herself when his hips moved and she heard his gasp. She turned her head and kissed the inner thigh at the same moment that she slipped a finger inside. Harry was already wet... his ministrations earlier had primed him. She brushed her thumb across the clitoris and his hips lifted off the bed. She toyed with him, the way he usually did to her, the way she liked it. She kissed the top of his knee.

"Ginny... please..." he said. "I promise I'll never torment you like this again..."

"You know you like it," she grinned at him slyly. But she only dallied a few more moments. She added a second finger and began pumping in earnest. She circled his hips with her other arm to hold him still and pressed her tongue against the clitoris. He cried out. She closed her lips around the small bundle of pure nerves and began to suckle in time to the movements of her fingers.

It was about the time when Harry's hands fisted in her hair and began to pull none too gently that Ginny got hard again. She stopped her movements and looked up at him. "I'm hard again," she said in wonder.

"My body... likes... the taste... of yours," Harry explained, panting. "Always does it. Merlin, Ginny! Ginny... I want to feel what you feel when I'm inside of you."

"In front of the mirror," Ginny said. It was amazing that she sounded exactly like Harry when he was this aroused. She pulled away and slid to the soft carpet of the floor. She lay on her side, and propped herself up on her elbow, and started to stroke the penis. Harry vaulted over her. She wondered if he would like the feeling of being completely enclosed by him. She liked it sometimes when he held her so tightly that she could only barely move... not every time...

It took her three tries to get her penis to go where it wanted to, and she was amazed again at Harry's dexterity. He generally made everything seem so effortless. She felt a flash of nervousness. What if she wasn't any good? What if she couldn't use Harry's body to give her own an orgasm? The first several thrusts were awkward and felt forced. Ginny feared that if she didn't stop feeling so self-conscious she'd lose her erection. But then--

Nature took over, and Ginny realized that Harry's body knew exactly what to do. Her arms went around Harry and pulled him tightly up against her chest while she thrust harder and harder. He was making whimpering sounds and Ginny was amazed anew at her own grunts. It sounded so erotic...

"Feels so amazing," she whispered.

"I know," Harry said.

With one hand, she squeezed a breast and pinched a nipple, and with the other she swirled a little pattern around the sensitive clitoris. Her movements became more erratic as she pounded away, and she felt that tingling in her balls and knew that the orgasm was about to knock her flat again. _Wait for Harry_, she chanted. _Wait for Harry, wait for Harry, wait for Harry... _

She bit his shoulder and felt it sending him tumbling over the edge. Her penis was squeezed tightly with the force of his orgasm, and she exploded again. Through a haze of pleasure, she could hear Harry swearing incoherently. If she wasn't so damn tired, she'd join in. She moved onto her back, feeling the wetness of female arousal and semen on her thigh, and did not care at all. She was in a state of bliss. _I do this to Harry_, she thought triumphantly.

"Can we do this again sometime?" she asked.

"Count on it," Harry said.

**Ella's Pirate Bounty Hunt Clue: Ye'll find the next clue in a hidden place. Ye see, I like to pilfer and pillage from other journals, like any respectable pirate. This one was Mel's, smack in the middle of WWOAB. What I wouldn't give for a massage table in the Captain's Quarters right now. Argh!**


	2. Happy Halloween

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

or, Poor Ron Suffers Greatly

"So," Hermione Granger said in a low voice that nonetheless made Harry Potter's spine tingle with fear. "So. We can all agree that something has happened to Ron. And I think we all know what that something might be."

"I still think he's just being Ron," George said cheerfully. "So he's saying --"

"Ron knew perfectly well -- this morning -- that tomorrow is Christmas and not Halloween," Hermione hissed. Harry willed himself to look at the small freckle right beneath her right eye. She always knew when he was lying... but if he maintained what was very close to eye-contact, maybe she wouldn't notice. He wasn't the only one being interrogated. Every Weasley and Weasley wife or girlfriend was there as well. Harry glanced furtively around and noticed, with some trepidation as well as amusement, that he was not the only one who looked guilty.

"Hermione, be reasonable," Ginny said. Harry felt like cheering. If anyone could lie to Hermione without blushing or (worse) giggling, it would be her. Of all the wonderful things about Ginny, this was in the top twenty. "What could we possibly have done to him?"

Hermione barely spared her a glance. Sweat beaded on Harry's brow. It was not so much Hermione (though, honestly, he hadn't done it to Ron on purpose -- in fact, he rather thought that Ron should be thanking him), it was everyone else in the room. In particular: Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George. And Ron, he supposed, flicking a glance at his best friend who was still staring rather vacantly into the corner. Though Ron was not much of a danger at the moment.

"I theenk eet was one of the jokes," Fleur said, very quickly. "From ze shop. George eez always bringing them here... he could have --"

"You know me," George latched onto this with great enthusiasm while Angelina stared down at her hands with an air of great embarrassment. "I always bring stuff here. And Ron -- you know he does too. He might've -- uh -- done something with it... he might've forgotten. You know how he never looks at what he's eating."

"I'll bet that's what it was," Percy said loudly. His new wife, Audrey, leaned across his back to grin conspiratorily at Ginny. "He'll eat anything..."

Harry was just about to add his voice of agreement when Ron chose that moment to say, "Happy Halloween!"

Almost against his will, Harry looked around at the Christmas tree and the lavish decorations. Presents were piled beneath the tree, and Christmas carols played on the old wireless. Regrettably, the fact that Ron was unaware of the current holiday (it was, after all, Christmas Eve, and the reason why they had all gathered at the Burrow en masse) would only serve to infuriate Hermione further. It would only be obvious to her that--

"Ron is suffering from an ineptly cast Memory Charm," Hermione said coldly. "As I'm sure at least two of you are aware."

"What?" George's mouth fell open. "A memory charm?" His concern and surprise were obviously fake, and Harry sighed a little with relief. George was going to take the blame... though it rankled a bit that Hermione called his memory charm "inept"... maybe he'd gone a little overboard with the power behind it, but he had been desperate--

"Well, that's not so bad, is it?" Charlie said cheerfully. "He'll come off it in a few hours. If that's all..." He stood up and dusted off his dragon leather pants. His girlfriend -- Harry was incapable of remembering her name, Charlie had never brought the same girl home twice -- looked equally innocent. Hermione seemed to sense this, and when they left the sitting room, she made no effort to hold them back.

He desperately wanted to get out of this situation. They were going to kill him. They really were. It had seemed like such a grand idea at the time. His cock twitched in his pants when he remembered exactly how grand it had been. He glared down at his lap. This is what got us in trouble in the first place, he told it fiercely. But then he happened to glance over at Ginny, and a vision of what she had looked like just hours before filled his mind until he was blind to everything except the strands of fire in her hair and the blazing look on her face...

He glanced around again at her brothers. They might kill him if they realized just why Harry had used the Memory Charm on Ron... but what a way to go...

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

(Several Hours Previously)

_Harry glanced down at his hands and felt another little flutter of delight somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. They were entwined with Ginny's. Her thumb brushed his knuckles lazily, tracing a little figure eight. They sat together on the bed... she was curled up against his chest. This was not an odd occurrence for them, though it was unusual in that they were both fully dressed. And both of them were staring down at the ring on Ginny's fourth finger. _

_His stomach did a flip flop when it hit him (again) that Ginny had just agreed to become his wife. My wife, he thought triumphantly. He hoped she didn't have her heart set on a long engagement. In truth, he had understood that there was no going back, that he was hers forever, that there would be no other women the moment he had woken up after defeating Voldemort and realized that the rest of his life stretched before him. This fact had only been reinforced the first time they had made love, and every time since. _

_It had been a year and a half since then, and Harry was established in the Auror Department, Ginny was established on her Quidditch team, and all the reasons why others would look askance at their decision (they were young, after all) could be argued with. It had been difficult, yes. Harry could've married her the day she turned seventeen, and he wouldn't have any regrets. But when the love of one's life wanted to achieve a goal (in this case, earning a spot on the Holyhead Harpies) without any perceived help from Harry's name and fame, it didn't hurt to wait. But she'd already proven herself to the nation that she was an outstanding Chaser, and no one could ever say that she was given the spot because of him... _

_"What are you thinking?" Ginny murmured._

_"That I would've married you the day you turned seventeen," Harry said easily. _

_"I would've married you when I was ten," Ginny said dryly. _

_"'His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,'" Harry sang softly. She smacked his stomach and he grinned. "Don't be offended. You get to tell the kids how stupid Daddy was... You should've said I was as blind as a fresh pickled toad."_

_Ginny laughed. She moved her head so that her chin rested on his chest. She met his eyes and smiled that tender little smile that was as familiar and welcome as her fierce, blazing look. "You know, Harry... I love you. I'm in love with you. I love you very much..."_

_The backs of his eyes stung. The first time he'd ever told her that he'd loved her, he'd said the exact same thing. He remembered that soaring feeling that was somehow a combination of anxiety, hope, joy, and peace, and whenever she said it to him the way he'd first said it to her..._

_Her eyes were watery as well. _

_Harry opened his mouth to speak, though he did not know what he was going to say. Probably something sarcastic like "we've both become a pair of Chos, haven't we?" or sappy, like "I can no more imagine living without air than living without you..." So it was for the best that in that instant, Ginny pulled out her wand and muttered "_Evanesco_!" and all his clothes disappeared. _

_He gaped at her, scandalized. "We're at the Burrow!"_

_"So?" _

_"Everyone is here," he pointed out._

_"Not in the room with us," she said nonchalantly. She reached down and firmly gripped his penis. She stroked it until he'd hardened all the way. "Besides, we always do this."_

_This was perfectly true, Harry had to admit. He moved his hips. "It's the middle of the day," he said. His wand was all the way on the other side of the room, so he had to make do with taking her dress off without the benefit of magic. Oh well, he thought, grinning to himself. She stopped her ministrations as he leisurely stripped her, pressing kisses to newly exposed skin. His lips traveled with his hands. He nuzzled her shoulder, her collarbone, the delicate skin between the breasts still hidden by a lacy blue bra. _

_"Have I told you," he said in a voice much deeper than normal, "how much I love it when you wear dresses?"_

_"I believe you've mentioned it a time or two," she said a bit breathlessly. Harry grinned against her navel. She'd worn the long, button down dress today just for him. He loved to undo buttons, just as much as he loved to take her hair out of its ponytail or bun or plait. Another button revealed her knickers, and his eyes dilated with pleasure. He did not quite understand it, but the smaller the knickers were, the more he wanted to rip them off of her body. And these were very small knickers indeed. _

_He traced a line from the top to her bum, and was delighted to not that the material between was quite damp. He moved the material to the side, found her clitoris and began to rub. Her reaction was instantaneous. She let out a breathy, strangled moan that caused his penis to throb. He loved the whimpers she could not hold back while he aroused her body. They were almost as inflaming as the "Ah-haaaaaa" wail she made when she came... that sound almost always sent him over the edge. _

_He began tugging at her knickers, realizing, with some surprise, that his penis was demanding to thrust into the warmth and the heat. Apparently getting engaged had the same effect as several minutes of a blow job. He looked down at Ginny's flushed face and body and knew she felt the same. _

_"Just rip them off," she growled. _

_Normally, Harry would do so in a heartbeat, but... the knickers could be repaired with magic but they were never quite as pretty. Another benefit to being married occurred to him just then. He slid the knickers down her body, kissed her knees and the top of her feet and sat back on his heels, admiring the view. "I'm going to buy a new pair of knickers for you every day," he said dreamily. "And I'll rip them off you every time..."_

_And then, because he couldn't help himself, he leaned over and gave her clitoris a little kiss, just to let it know that he appreciated it. Ginny's hips bucked and she whimpered again. And then, because he didn't want her nipples to feel neglected, he sucked one into his mouth and then the other, while his fingers probed at her opening just to be sure she was ready. She was sopping wet, and Harry drew a deep breath into his lungs. All thoughts were swiftly fleeing his head. _

_He bent down and kissed her, settling between her thighs. He propped himself up on one elbow, and they both shuddered when the tip of his penis brushed against her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he thrust inside her with a loud grunt. She did not let him maintain an easy pace, but bucked up against him until he was pounding against her._

_"Feels... so good!" she moaned in his ear. He rocked against her so strongly that her wand rolled off and under the bed. "Love feeling... your balls... slapping." _

_He grunted. She liked to tease him by talking dirty, but even monosyllables were beyond him when he was focused on pushing them both toward an explosion that would nearly cause him to lose consciousness. Right when Ginny's eyes rolled back in her head when he penetrated her rather deeply, he lost control. Her voice caught after every thrust... she was close... but Harry was closer. His balls tightened and his body was covered in sweat. He reached down between their bodies and without any sort of finesse, pressed down on her clitoris. _

_She rolled her hips, and jerked in his arms, and made that "Ah-haaaaaaaa" sound, and Harry felt her orgasm ripple through her body, and with a grunt, he slammed into her one more time and--_

_"Hey!" someone shouted right as Harry exploded. _

_Unfortunately, this person was not Ginny. Harry ducked his head, feeling as though he had just been struck by lightning. Bewildered and confused, he wondered what the hell he was supposed to do. Catch his breath? Jump off of Ginny?_

_"Ron!" Ginny said, panting and shocked. _

_Harry groaned. _

_"What the hell..." Ron sounded vague, as if he had just suffered a surprise that had vastly weakened him. _

_Harry cracked his eyes open. Apparently Ron was not going to forget--_

That's it! _Harry thought with a sense of triumph and joy. He leapt off the bed, grabbed his wand, pointed it at Ron, and said "_Obliviate_!" rather loudly. Ron's expression immediately went vacant and he backed out of the door, muttering, "Happy Halloween... yeah... Halloween..."_

_Ginny stroked his back. "Quick thinking," she said. Harry could hear the amusement in her voice. _

_"It isn't funny," he said. "If I hadn't done something--"_

_"You'd be a dead man," Ginny nodded. "Those filthy hypocrites I call brothers..."_

_"Shh..." Harry said, pressing a finger against her lips. "We promised not to talk about them when we're naked, remember?"_

_She squirmed against him and sighed a little. "That was brilliant, Harry," she said, and Harry knew that she was talking about the sex, not the well-timed Memory Charm. She stroked his back while his heartbeat returned to normal. For what felt like the millionth time, Harry thanked God that he was a wizard and not a Muggle... he did not want to know what would have happened if he had not been able to take away Ron's memory of seeing Harry pounding away into his sister._

_"Let's just hope that Hermione doesn't figure it out..." Harry said._

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"--_Priori Incantatem_," Hermione said.

Harry jerked out of his rather lascivious thoughts of having a repeat performance. "Aren't you being a little harsh?" he asked before he could stop himself. Ginny groaned.

"No," Hermione said bluntly. She glared at him. "As I told everyone last summer, I _will _tell your mum that Ron keeps having his head messed with by his own family! It isn't his fault that some of you," she glared at Bill and Fleur, "are having issues -- I know that you're having hormonal problems, Fleur, but that doesn't explain why you couldn't lock the door. If you'd just locked the door to the bathroom, you wouldn't have had to use a Memory Charm on Ron in the first place."

"Oh, so it was Bill, then!" George said in a loud, relieved voice. He sounded as though he had just dodged a curse. "I knew it."

"Bill is only partly to blame," Hermione said in a very frosty voice. "There had to have been at least one other Memory Charm. I saw Ron right after Bill got done with him"--she narrowed her eyes at Bill, who looked abashed--"and he was not nearly this confused. So. I want every single wand in this room. This is"--she held up her hand when there was a wave of protest--"the easy way. Don't make me tell your mother."

All the girls handed over their wands with ease, though Harry noticed that George and Percy were just as reluctant as Harry was. He gulped in a deep breath, wondering if he would have a chance to say goodbye to Ginny, and handed over his wand. Such was the tension in the room that no one even laughed or teased when Audrey's wand showed that she had used _Incarcerous _right after a birth control charm. Everyone was a little afraid of Hermione when it came to her defense of Ron.

"Thank God I'm on the potion," Ginny whispered in his ear. "Imagine if..."

"Don't, Ginny," Harry pleaded.

Harry relaxed a little when Percy's wand showed that he had, indeed, used a memory charm. But he tightened back up with an almost audible snap when Hermione proceeded to pick up George's wand. He too had used a memory charm. The silence in the room was so thick that Harry could almost cut it. He saw the moment when Bill, Percy, and George realized what it would mean if Harry's wand told Hermione the same thing.

They stiffened in their seats and stared at the wand in Hermione's left hand: holly and phoenix feather. It had saved his life so many times, was it possible that it could now be the death of him? _Please, Hermione _, he pleaded silently. He wished rather wildly that he could use Legilimency to dissuade her from doing this.

Time seemed to stand still when the first spell that came out of his wand was a memory charm.

Bill, Percy, and George turned around to stare at him as one.

"Don't even think about it," Ginny said testily.

They ignored her. "I want to know why Harry needed to use a memory charm," Bill said in a deceptively calm voice. Harry gulped.

"Because Ron walked in on us while we were shagging," Ginny said. Harry knew that _she _could afford to be brave. She was not about to die. She turned on Hermione, "and you've got to know that Ron would have begged you to Obliviate him. Besides, how many times have you used a memory charm on Harry?"

Harry snapped to attention. _What was this?_ He watched as Hermione's cheeks turned pink, and he gaped at her.

"Ginny--"

"Don't," Ginny said waspishly. "I'm of age, I'm in love, and if one of you _touches _Harry -- don't look smug, George! No using WWW products either! -- I will take a leaf out of Hermione's book and tell Mum and Dad every bit of dirt I have on each one of you."

Harry couldn't help it. He scooted to the right so that she could protect him. She tossed him a grin.

"Like..." she pretended to think. "I could tell Mum and Dad _where_ you lost your virginity, Bill, and how old you were, and how old she was. And you, Percy, I could tell them what you were doing when I found out about your first girlfriend. And George... I wouldn't want to drag Fred into this, but I _will _tell them --"

"All right!" George said in a strangled voice. Bill and Percy looked equally pale and frightened. Harry felt like standing up and cheering.

"They'll leave you alone," Ginny whispered in his ear. "I've been saving up all that blackmail just for this..." She cleared her throat and winked at him. "If that weren't enough..." she suddenly beamed, and the Weasley brothers looked even more afraid. "I'm an engaged woman!"

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then all the woman in the room squealed. Hermione threw herself at both of them and gripped them in a strangling hug. "Congratulations!" Harry felt completely disoriented as he was passed from witch to witch. Ginny was in the center of it all, practically glowing with happiness as Fleur told her about a particularly talented witch who could make her wedding robes.

Bill clapped him on the shoulder, all antipathy suddenly gone, though Harry was well aware that the brothers would pull him limb from limb if he hurt her. But that was how it should be... Harry would rather die than hurt her. Their unreserved happiness told him that they knew that, but they would watch. Just in case.

"Congratulations, mate," Ron said in a very quiet voice.

Harry looked over at him. His eyes were clear, and darting around the room to make sure that Hermione could not see him. "You were faking it?" Harry said in disbelief.

Ron shrugged. "Just a little," he said. "I've gotten used to the feeling. But Hermione caught me... doing something"--Ron's shifty eyes told Harry that this was probably about the ring that Ron had bought for Hermione on the day that Harry had purchased Ginny's--"and I sat around looking stupid for long enough that she thought one of my brothers had gone overboard with the charm again."

Harry snorted. "Don't you think that's a little pathetic?"

"Nah," Ron said. "It was the perfect cover."

"You nearly got me killed!" Harry said.

"Yes, well... you deserved some sort of punishment," Ron said unabashedly.

"It was worth it," Harry said. His eyes had found Ginny again. She was looking at him while the witches congregated around her, gushing over her. Her head was cocked to one side, and that tender smile was on her lips. He felt the urge to kiss her, and decided that he would pull her away and find a secluded landing -- he knew that he would be pushing his luck if he tried to get her alone in a bedroom tonight -- and kiss her until his head spun.

"Thanks for making me forget," Ron said, heartfelt.

Harry grinned at him. "Consider it a Halloween gift."


	3. A Christmas Gift for Ginny

Christmas 1996

It was after eleven o'clock at night when Ginny Weasley was finally able to take a shower. The Burrow was uncommonly full this Christmas, and the two bathrooms were overrun with family members and guests. _At least we don't have the same problem that Muggles do_, she thought. The idea of running out of hot water for a wash seemed barbaric, and she had not believed it when Hermione had first told her, until Harry had confirmed it. Poor Muggles. She glanced over at the other (thankfully empty) bed in her room and grimaced. Because of her stupid brother, she had to share her space with Phlegm and not Hermione.

And stupid Bill, for picking an empty-headed witch for his future wife. At least she wouldn't be expected to share a room with Phlegm after she and Bill were married.

She gathered up her shampoo and conditioner and tossed them onto the bed. Almost as an after thought, she threw her wand there too. If there were no clean, dry towels, her mum would just have to ignore a bit of underage magic. _And if Phlegm is taking another one of her two hour long baths, Mum will understand when I've got to hex her_, she thought grimly, though she felt like a bit of a hypocrite, since the reason why she'd stayed up to wash was because she liked having enough time to take a very long shower.

But it was different when Phlegm did it.

Ginny liked to use the time to think, and several things had been bothering her all day, and Dean's gift to her (a stupid basket full of WonderWitch products that she'd been forced to hide to avoid humiliation in front of Fred and George) was at the top of the list. Where in the name of Merlin had he gotten the idea that she'd like that? He could've gotten her something to do with Quidditch; he could've gotten her something that _wasn't pink_!

She threw off her clothes angrily, grabbed her dressing gown and threw it over her shoulders, belting it at the waist. It wasn't until she felt a cool breeze around her bum that she remembered that she'd stepped right through it and torn it in her sleepy stupor the other day. "Damn it," she snarled. She glanced at her wand. _What Mum doesn't know won't hurt her,_ she thought. She grabbed it and whispered the charm that would make her invisible.

Everyone's asleep anyway, she thought. Except for Phlegm and she's with Bill. There wouldn't be any uncomfortable confrontations on the landing, and even if there was... no one would be able to see her. She gave herself a mental pat on the back -- and whispered a thank you to the universe that the Trace could not detect one little underage witch's magic with so many fully-qualified adults around -- and gathered up her things.

She caught a glimpse of the pile of laundry that hid Dean's gift to her, and started fuming again. A small part of her could not help but be happy that his complete idiocy had given her something else to focus her anger on. She didn't want to think about Percy. Thinking about Percy hurt, especially seeing the look on her dad's face after he had left. Harry had been wonderful today, though. He'd relived the row he'd had with the Minister of Magic (complete with hand gestures and exaggerated facial expressions) to make them laugh, and then he'd--

Dean's stupid present, she told herself firmly. She didn't want to think about how wonderful Harry was, and how he'd given her a one-armed hug that had sent shivers down her spine. And later that afternoon, he'd told her (after making her swear not to tell Ron) what Lavender's stupid gift had been; he'd done it just to cheer her up, she could tell. They were just now starting to be friends, real friends, and if he had any idea that her crush not only still existed, but had deepened into something that sort of frightened even her, he'd run in the opposite direction.

_Dean's stupid present._

_Dean's stupid WonderWitch present_.

The thought stayed with her as she marched -- naked -- up a flight of stairs. She pushed open the door to the bathroom, working herself up to a good, cleansing anger. She shut it behind her, remembering just in time not to slam it. Others were sleeping, after all. _He doesn't even know me at all, the stupid git--_

It took her only a split second to realize two things: one, the shower was running; and two, she wasn't alone.

Harry.

_Naked_ Harry.

Her face ignited as she caught sight of his naked buttocks. His back was to her, and he was rinsing the soap suds out of his hair. Leave! a little voice in her head screamed at her. But Ginny's feet were glued to the floor and she felt awful and guilty, but all she could think about was how much she wanted him to turn around. Water flowed down his back -- his buttocks were perfectly shaped -- _turn around! Turn around! Just one little peek_, she promised. _And then I'll leave straightaway._

She set the shampoo and condition down, softly, so he wouldn't hear.

He tilted his head back, rinsing his face. Ginny's eyes travelled from the top of his head to the backs of his heels, trying to memorize every inch of him. He was tall and thin, but he had clearly defined shoulders that tapered down to his waist. She stared, fascinated, as his bum clenched, and the muscles were clearly defined.

He murmured something she didn't quite catch, and for a few moments, her eyes were drawn to his arm, which was moving back and forth in a rhythmic manner. It wasn't until he shifted and turned around that she realized what he was doing, and her heart nearly failed in her chest. She pressed herself against the door, completely incapable of moving or even blinking.

_Holy shit._

Harry held his penis in one hand and lightly stroked his balls with the other. It lengthened while she watched, enthralled. Almost without realizing it, she stepped closer. Harry drew in a deep breath, as though savoring the smell of something, and moved his fist, pulling at the skin of his balls at the same time. She jumped when he made an abrupt movement, but he was only bracing his legs. He hadn't heard her.

Ginny's breasts grew very heavy. And, unable to stop herself, she brought her hand up and squeezed lightly, running a thumb across the nipple. It tightened, and she felt a surge of heat between her legs. He grunted, and the sound sent a shiver up and down her body. Her eyes fixed on his penis, and she fervently thanked the universe for this moment, even though she felt slightly dirty at standing here watching Harry in a private moment. The majority of her, however, felt an almost unbearable arousal.

Harry looked wonderful from behind. His bottom was a thing of beauty. But Harry in profile, with his erection arching up toward his flat stomach, and his own hand fondling it... Ginny's body tingled from the sight. Just seeing him, watching him pleasure himself, was sending her toward an orgasm, and she'd not touched her clitoris once. It was difficult for her to breathe, and he kept groaning whenever he gave his penis a full stroke.

Ginny was quite certain that she'd never seen anything more beautiful. Until he took the hand off his sac, arched his back, and braced himself against the wall. His right hand moved faster and faster, and Ginny leaned over just a little, just so she could see a little better. Everything about Harry masturbating sent jolts of pleasure to her body. The sounds that came out of his mouth... the way his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and his lips were parted... the way his balls slapped against his leg...

Ginny bit back a whimper. She took her hand off her breast and moved it down between her legs. She was so wet that her fingers kept slipping, and she pressed down on her clitoris -- _hard_ -- with the palm of her hand while Harry's grunts grew louder. Damn. She imagined that it was Harry's palm, and that she had her hand wrapped around his long, thick penis. She almost fell over.

He was close too. His hips were moving in time with his hand, and a flush had spread over his chest and face. He thrust once, twice, three more times into his hand. Ginny watched, unable to breathe, as white fluid shot out the tip and splattered against the wall. He kept going, though he slowed down, and more came out and dripped to the floor, where it swirled around with the water from the shower and disappeared down the drain.

And Ginny shattered with the force of the most intense orgasm she'd ever had. She slid down the wall and into the corner where Harry was least likely to step on her; waves of pleasure still made her entire body shudder. She dimly realized that she was very lucky that Harry had come at almost the same moment, for he was still distracted enough by his own pleasure that he did not hear her panting for breath. His own was still coming out in harsh gasps.

"Merlin," he groaned. He shut the water off, and reached for a towel, drying himself off. And Ginny still couldn't keep her eyes off him. His penis was soft now, but just a few moments previously, it had been erect and fierce. He dressed, almost carelessly graceful, in the pajamas he had brought down from Ron's room.

And he stopped suddenly when he saw the shampoo. Ginny's heart failed, and she desperately hoped that if he found out she was here, she could reach her wand and perform a memory charm before he could stop her. But instead, he drew in a deep breath and said, inexplicably, "It's the shampoo."

And then he was gone.

As Ginny reached down and placed a light touch on her clitoris -- fully prepared to relive what had just happened -- two thoughts popped into her head. First: _Happy Christmas to me_. Then: _I'm never going to get over Harry Potter now..._

**Author's Note:**

_Some of you have expressed confusion in that in the first chapter, Harry and Ginny were married, and in the second, they had just gotten engaged. This is more like a series of one-shots rather than a story (as is probably obvious by this chapter). I pretty much go with the inspiration. _

_Inspiration can be helped, and if any of you have got any requests, I'll definitely take them into consideration. I'll only do Harry/Ginny, though. Suggest away, though I'll not promise that I'll get bitten by a plot-bunny. :D_


	4. Particularly Happy Hours

Spring 1997

Ginny could barely pay attention to her Charms class, but that was hardly a surprise, given the fact that she was still over the moon about Harry Potter. She glanced around surreptitiously, and then brought her hand to her lips. He'd kissed her in front of the entire common room. And the funny look he'd got in his eyes lately? Now that he'd kissed her, she finally understood what it meant: Harry was falling for her.

And given the slightly giddy air about him, he'd been falling for a while. He'd told her how jealous he'd been when he'd seen her snogging Dean, and she'd wanted to throttle herself for wasting time with Dean when Harry had finally felt the same way about her.

Finally. Finally, finally, finally.

"Has a wrackspurt got you, Ginny?" Luna Lovegood asked. She was eyeing Ginny with a faint air of concern. Then she dug into her especially stuffed handbag and pulled out a potted plant and what looked like a metal rod. "I've got just the thing for it."

"No, Luna," Ginny said. She was feeling pretty damn giddy herself. "Harry kissed me last night! Several times!" she felt a bit mortified that she'd been overcome; she was not like Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil or Ursula Erckhart. But she hadn't had a chance to debrief Hermione yet, and it had just... launched out of her.

Luna blinked owlishly at her. "Was he good at it? Because Cho said--"

"I don't care what Cho said," Ginny said fiercely. Harry had been perfect. His lips had slid over hers with just the right pressure. And she supposed that it might just be because it was Harry, but Ginny had never met a better kisser. "He was bloody amazing."

"I'm glad he finally did it, then," Luna said dreamily.

"Finally?" Ginny echoed.

"Yes," Luna said. "He's been wanting to for ages, I think, he's always staring at you. At first I thought it might be your red hair -- did you know that color can hypnotize people? -- but now it's obvious that he just wanted to kiss you."

"Er -- right," said Ginny. She knew she was blushing, but only Luna was close enough to see it. Her eyes slid halfway shut as she remembered it. She'd been watching the portrait hole for what felt like forever; and then she'd run at him, intending to hug him the way he'd hugged her after that first match, and then he'd... kissed her.

Her stomach swooped as she relived their second kiss, away from prying eyes. His tongue had, caressed her mouth; his hand had been in her hair, and his other hand had cradled her close against his body. And she'd felt his desire for her up against her belly.

Not that she hadn't felt that before, but she'd never felt like actually doing something about it. And even though it had been wanton, she'd deliberately pressed her hips against it, and Harry had moaned. And just like that, her favorite fantasy (of him pleasuring himself in the shower at the Burrow) had been replaced.

Luna eyed her knowingly. Ginny got the feeling that Luna knew that a wrackspurt had not gotten her. Ginny forced her thoughts away from Harry's growl and turned her attention back to Professor Flitwick.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Harry!" she pulled away, panting slightly. "I've got to go to class!"

"Five more minutes," he mumbled. He brushed her hair out of the way, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her neck that sent chills running up and down her body. One of his hands was inside her robes. Not in the front. Just the back. But she could feel his fingers fiddling with her bra strap, as if he wanted to take it off.

She squeezed him a little tighter, and almost imperceptibly moved her hips. He rolled his right back, and his erection pressed even further into her belly. She couldn't help a little whimper from escaping. Harry's lips locked onto hers again, and his tongue dueled with hers. _I hate class, _she thought. She did not want to leave, not when his fingertips were lightly stroking the sides of her breast.

This was the furthest they'd ever gone, and Ginny wanted more, damn it. She arched her back a little, and his hand fisted in her hair. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were wide and unfocused.

"You've got to go to class," he said dazedly. His hand was still inside her robes and up her shirt. He withdrew it with what seemed like superhuman effort.

"I hate class," she said grumpily. He chuckled a little.

"So do I," he said wryly. He straightened her robes and gave her a chaste little kiss on the end of her nose. She turned and took two steps--

He grabbed her hand, whirled her around, and gave her a fierce, hard kiss. He pressed his forehead to hers. "See you at lunch?" he said huskily.

Ginny could only nod.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Ginny sat between Harry's legs underneath the tree by the lake that had swiftly become theirs. They'd been out here every day for lunch for almost two weeks, and it was just about Ginny's favorite place in the world. She sighed happily. "I love escaping from Ron."

"Me too," Harry said. "I'm still afraid he's going to thump me for kissing you."

"He won't," Ginny assured him. "Well... he might. Once. But then I'd set him straight."

"I'm glad you're here to protect me," said Harry. He ran his fingers through her hair and leaned forward. "And I'm glad I can kiss you anytime I want. Except when he's there."

"Of course," Ginny said a bit breathlessly. She turned her head and locked eyes with Harry. It always happened like this. They could talk about anything and everything, from the Dursleys to how it felt to be the youngest Weasley, to how much he missed Sirius, and how worried she was that something might happen to her family. But then one of them would say something... and Harry's green eyes would start to smolder, like they were now--

And suddenly (by a combination of both their efforts) Ginny was straddling his lap, with both hands in his messy black hair, and she kissed him as though she needed it to live. His arms wrapped around her, and Ginny did not even care about the fact that she was wearing a skirt, and they were in a rather more intimate position than they had ever been before.

His hand slipped up her blouse and flattened against her back, kneading it a little. He bit her bottom lip softly, angled his head and slipped his tongue into her mouth. Ginny gasped and moaned a little as she felt his penis lengthening inside his pants. He rolled his hips, and slipped two of his fingers underneath the strap of her bra.

Ginny pulled away so that her lips were just barely touching his and their breath mingled. His fingers slid lightly further and further, until the tips just barely brushed the undersides of her breasts, which tingled and felt very heavy all of a sudden. _Do it, Harry, please do it. _And as if she had spoken out loud, he slipped his hand under her bra, and cupped her breast.

She shuddered.

"Is this all right?" he whispered.

Ginny nodded, and then pressed her lips to his again. Emboldened, he squeezed gently. She thrust her chest out a little, and the rough skin of his palm rubbed against her erect nipple, sending a huge jolt of desire from her breast straight to between her legs.

He took time getting to know her chest, and Ginny loved every moment of it. His fingers plucked delicately at her nipple, he rolled it between his thumb and his forefinger, and then he cupped her other breast with his other hand, as though comparing the two. And he kept kissing her all the while: sweet, heavy kisses that left her feeling drunk.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"I love treacle tart," Ginny said dreamily. She lay in the crook of Harry's arm, stretched out beside him. The sun shone down on her and that, along with her full belly, made her feel warm and sleepy.

"You said that about the steak and kidney pie yesterday," Harry pointed out, laughter in his voice. "I think you just like food, Weasley."

Ginny slapped his chest lazily. "Prat. You don't tell a girl how much she likes food. No wonder Cho was sobbing all over you."

"Hey!" His face hovered over her. He was grinning widely, and his eyes looked like happy, grass-flavored Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans. "At least you don't think it's because I'm a bad kisser. That's what Ron thought."

Ginny laughed. The idea of Harry being a bad kisser was ludicrous. She firmly believed that he was the best kisser in the world. Her gaze dropped to his lips. She licked hers deliberately, knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist kissing her after that. And she was right.

She sighed happily against his mouth when his hand immediately went to the hem of her shirt. Except... instead of sliding his hand beneath it, he undid the bottom button so slowly that she knew he was giving her time to stop him. But she didn't, and he caressed each patch of skin that he uncovered. And each time he did so, her desire grew.

She pulled back a little and he froze. "Can I..." she plucked at his own shirt. He let out a huge sigh of relief, and helped her pull it off. She stared at him hungrily. His chest was not overly large, but his Quidditch muscles were well-defined, and his stomach was quite flat. A dusting of black hair trailed from his belly button to inside his trousers. She tentatively reached out a hand and stroked his chest. His hand fisted in her shirt as he undid the last button and pushed it aside.

And she reached behind her own back and undid her bra. He slid the strap down her shoulders and over her elbows, until absolutely nothing kept her bra on her breasts. And then it wasn't there at all, and Ginny felt a breeze and Harry's eyes. She wanted this. A large part of her loved the way his breathing had quickened and he had moaned a little, deep in his throat, so softly that she barely heard. Nonetheless, her face flushed, and she fought the urge to cover them with her hands.

"Merlin, Ginny," he said hoarsely. He looked up at her; his eyes were wide with wonder and slightly glazed over. He moved closer, and she felt his erection against her thigh. Her embarrassment faded away as if it had never been.

She played with his chest. He brought his hand up and swirled his fingers around her nipple.

And then he bent his head and sucked it into his mouth, and Ginny jerked with surprise. He brought his head up so fast that she thought he might have hurt himself. "Sorry!" he said, alarmed. "I'm sorry, I--"

"Harry," she said. "Please..." but she couldn't really articulate what she wanted, so she pulled his head back down to her chest. A whimper escaped her throat as his tongue came out and licked. She stroked his shoulders and his back; the feeling of smooth skin under her fingertips was nearly as arousing as what he was doing with his mouth.

He switched breasts, and his hand played with the wet breast, and Ginny moaned, writhing a little. He pressed himself more firmly against her thigh. Ginny caressed his shoulders and back even harder while he kissed her breasts. She desired him very much, and her knickers felt very damp, and if he didn't touch her--

"Shit!" Harry drew back abruptly.

"What?" she lifted her head, alarmed.

He stared at her. "We're going to be late for class," he said in a heavy, disappointed tone. Ginny felt a surge of hatred for school, and resented the fact that it was taking her away from Harry. Harry, who looked like a bare-chested god, with an erection that tented his trousers.

Stupid class.

"Do you want to," Harry swallowed hard, and picked his shirt up off the ground. Ginny retrieved her discarded bra and turned her back while she put it on. "Do you want to -- er -- you know... go to the Room of Requirement with me tonight?"

"Yes, please," she said immediately.

The rest of the day passed with excruciating slowness. Whenever Ginny closed her eyes, she could see Harry's messy black head nuzzling her breasts. And while she had no problem with this vision whatsoever, it was a bit distracting. By the time dinner came around, she wondered if she ought to do some sort of drying charm on her knickers.

Harry walked in with Ron and Hermione. He immediately sought her out and sat beside her. His arm brushed against hers and her stomach swooped. She took a long swallow of her pumpkin juice. She could not help but wonder how far they were going to go--

"Ginny?" Ron said.

"Yeah?" Ginny asked. She hoped that her blush wasn't very noticeable.

"You all right?"

"Just distracted," she said vaguely. "OWLs coming up, you know."

Ron relaxed, but Hermione eyed her suspiciously. Ginny ignored her and ate faster. Harry, she noticed, was already almost done with his meal. Excellent. She looked longingly at the tray of desserts that had just appeared--

"Ginny," Harry breathed in her ear. "Please don't."

She flashed a grin at him. "Ready for our walk?"

"Yes," Harry said with such relief that Ginny was certain that Ron would figure out what they were up to. But Ron was bickering with Hermione about something or other, and could not be bothered that his sister and his best mate were about to do... something.

They chattered about inconsequential things all the way up to the Room of Requirement. Harry's palm was slightly sweaty, and Ginny was relieved that he was a bit nervous too. Not that she didn't desire him. She did. But she wasn't sure if she was ready for absolutely everything, but what if a bed appeared in the room? She hoped he didn't expect...

But then she chanced a glance at him. He was ruffling his already untidy hair, and looked as anxious as she felt. And she was instantly reminded that this was Harry; it was unlikely that he would take it further than what both of them were ready for. And she suspected that he would err on the side of caution.

And, feeling completely secure, she pushed open the door.

She grinned when Harry sighed beside her. Instead of a bed, the Room had manifested a very large, fluffy sofa that sat in front of a fire. It was very romantic, but not uncomfortably so. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

"It's been a long day," Harry said. He grabbed her other hand and pulled her toward the couch. He flushed, and gestured down at his robes. "I'm really glad that wizards wear these. To hide... stuff."

To hide his erection. Ginny turned bright red; she felt a very heady combination of embarrassment and desire. She chuckled a little, and looked at his shoulder. "I'm glad that girls don't... you know, have to worry about it."

"Me too," Harry murmured. And then he kissed her, and desire won the battle. Her toes curled in her shoes, and heat pooled between her legs. They made quick work of their robes; Harry was so enthusiastic about ridding her of it that he tossed it right toward the fire, and a metal grate appeared just in time to keep it from going up in flames.

She pulled his shirt off, and he made quick work of hers. She felt far more comfortable and confident, and she loved the way he shuddered when lightly stroked his stomach. He pulled her to the sofa, and then almost onto his lap while he pressed his lips against hers. He caressed her bare back, and threaded his fingers through her hair. After several moments of just snogging, his fingers moved with intent to her bra strap.

He fumbled with it, his efforts growing increasingly desperate. She winced, when the strap snapped her back.

"Sorry," he muttered against his lips. And then, inexplicably, "I told Bill I'd never be able to do it one handed."

She was about to ask what the hell her oldest brother had anything to do with it when he reached his other hand around, and got it off with one smooth movement. And then his fingers were rolling her nipple around in just the way she liked -- he'd obviously been paying attention -- and she could barely think.

He pulled his lips from hers and kissed her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone, all the while he gently pressed her back against the cushions until he lay halfway on top of her. She felt the now familiar sensation of him pressing his erection against her thigh, and shivered a little.

He bit her nipple gently. Ginny's hand crept down her stomach with the intention of stroking herself through her trousers before she even realized it; she stopped it just in time. She wasn't that comfortable with Harry yet. Instead, she placed her hand on the small of his back, and reveled in the fact that he rolled his hips against her the moment she did.

She inched her hand downward toward his bum, suddenly filled with the desire to touch it. As if reading her thoughts, Harry stilled, and then resumed his task with abandon. Ginny was lost in the sensation of his mouth on her breast, though not so lost that her hand did not halt it's slow path to his bum.

And then she touched it, and they both moaned. It was very firm, and Ginny was a little sad that his trousers were still on, and she couldn't feel it skin on skin. But from what she felt... he had a lovely bum. Her touch grew a little firmer, and Harry groaned.

And moved until he was fully on top of her; and Ginny had moved when he did so that he could settle between her thighs. His erection pressed against her and her eyes rolled back in her head. "Merlin," she gasped. Harry's head bent once more to her breasts, but Ginny could tell that he was focused on the sensation of the intimate position. She stroked him from his bum to his shoulders and he thrust against her.

She pressed back, and then they were rocking together; pressure built between her thighs, and she pulled Harry's head up so that they could kiss. It was open-mouthed, sloppy, and his tongue stroked her mouth with the same rhythm that he moved his hips against her. She felt almost surprised when it became obvious that her orgasm was rapidly approaching. Harry ground against her, and it hurt a little, but it felt even better.

She moaned. "Harry," she panted, clutching at his shoulders. She lost her rhythm, and raised her hips up off the sofa while he pressed down, and she cried out when she came. She stopped moving and after a few seconds, so did Harry. She burrowed her head in his shoulder, feeling more than a little embarrassed. She'd just -- and he hadn't--

"Did you just..." his voice trailed away.

She nodded.

"That's brilliant," he breathed, as though amazed. His erection was just as firm as ever, and Ginny felt bad that she'd come, but he hadn't. She took a deep breath, and brought her hand back to his bum again. They were lying so close together that she felt his heartbeat quicken. She stroked his sides, and then brought her hand around to where their bodies met.

She fiddled with his belt a little, and then played with the coarse hairs that trailed downward. "Oh my God," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Ginny, you don't--"

But he cut off when she pushed him just a little so that he was on his side and not on top of her. Ginny kept her face pressed against his sweaty chest, unbuckled his belt, undid his buttons, and slipped her hand inside. He was very hard, and he felt large in her hands. She'd seen him in the shower, but it was entirely different now that he was in her hand. She loved the sensation of smooth skin.

She didn't really know what to do. She brushed her thumb over the head and he grunted, so she did it again. And again. Then she wrapped her hand around his penis and squeezed it a little. He covered her hand in his, keeping it still, and he thrust his hips hard into her hand. "Ginny," he grunted. And something warm and fluid flowed over her hand.

His body shook with tremors, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next day, Ginny resented the fact that they actually had to eat during lunch. She wanted make Harry orgasm again, and this time, she wanted to watch. Harry was obviously thinking along the same lines, for he took about three bites of his sandwich, and then tossed it back in the basket. She took two more and then did the same, and then his lips were on hers, and he was pressing her back against the blanket.

She giggled. He pulled back; his eyes were already glazed over. He rested his forehead against hers and chuckled as she impatiently pulled his shirt up and over his head. Then she pulled her own shirt over her head, marveling at how comfortable she felt with showing him her chest. She let him kiss her for a few moments while she gathered her courage. And then she rolled him off her.

He looked surprised, but only momentarily. She played with his belly button, and worked her way downward. He sucked in a breath, and let it out with a whoosh that ruffled her hair. She used her hair like a curtain, so that he couldn't see her face, which she was sure was a bright, tomato red.

She unbuckled his belt, and moved to sit cross-legged near his hips. She undid his buttons. And then she pushed his trousers down over his hips, revealing his boxers. She could see the outline of his growing erection through the thin cotton. She ran a finger along it; it delighted her when it twitched. She drew in a deep breath -- Harry did the same -- and she pulled his boxers down.

She wiped her sweaty hands on her own trousers and reached out to stroke it gently. It twitched again, and pointed toward Harry's belly. She sort of felt that last night had been a fluke. He did not seem nearly as out of control.

As though sensing her thoughts, and brought his hand down to gently cover hers. "Like this," he murmured, and moved her hand up and down a few times. His breathing had quickened, and he lay loose-limbed on the blanket. She chanced a glance at his face; he was staring at her intently, his lips slightly parted. She didn't look away.

Not until his eyes rolled back, and a deep moan issued from his mouth with every pass. Ginny's belly tightened with answering desire. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his chest, and his fingers threaded in her hair. All too soon, he came; fluid arced across his belly, and he cried out. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he gripped her hair so tightly that it was almost painful, but in a good way.

"That was... amazing," he said once his breathing calmed down. He pulled her head down for an open-mouthed kiss. She lay half on top him, and she could feel the warm, wet spots that were the evidence of his orgasm, and had to bite her lip to keep a whimper locked in.

He pulled away, hitched up his boxers and trousers, and then rolled her over onto her back, and buried his head in her breasts. Ginny grew more and more aroused, and she moaned when his hand traveled down her stomach. His thumb lightly stroked her belly. He moved a lot faster, and he was a lot more confident than she'd been last night. One moment his hand still rested on her belly, and the next, it had slipped under the waistband and inside her knickers.

He growled a little when he found that she was already very damp. He played with her curls for what seemed like an agonizingly long time. She bucked her hips, and spread her legs a bit wider, just to make it a little easier for him. He sucked a nipple into his mouth at the same instant that his thumb found her clitoris, and a cry that was half a scream and half a moan was ripped out of her.

He was a little clumsy, and he fumbled a bit. But Ginny was fiercely glad of his inexperience, and the fact that he'd never done this before with anyone... the desire she felt mounted. He slipped two fingers inside her and found a rhythm that had her writhing and moaning, and floating on pleasure that was greater than anything she'd ever experienced.

Without even thinking, she grabbed his hand and pressed his thumb hard against her clitoris, and lifted her hips to meet his fingers. "Harry, Harry, Harry," she chanted over and over again. Pleasure spiraled higher and higher until it crashed over her, and she screamed. _I love you, I love you, I love you_.


	5. Goodbye, Hello

19 August 1998

Ginny sat at the kitchen table at the Burrow. It was a bit early in the morning, and she stirred her tea, allowing herself to slip into a contemplative mood. The quiet and solitude -- rare commodities at her home -- seemed to ask for it. It had been a strange summer. The days had melted together, and celebration and grief had mingled together so tightly that it felt as though an entirely new emotion had been created for this period of time after Voldemort.

After Voldemort and after Fred. Fred and Remus and Tonks. Every so often, she thought she might have seen one of them out of the corner of her eye, but every time she turned to look, all she got was whiplash for her efforts. And her heart always gave a funny, jolting little throb.

Ginny sipped and grimaced. The tea needed more sugar. She got up to open the cupboard... and then grinned, remembering that she was seventeen, and was allowed to use magic if she damn well wanted to. "Accio sugar!" she said triumphantly. The battered crystal sugar bowl in the shape of a fat, slightly ugly flower zoomed toward her.

"Having fun?" Hermione's voice. Ginny turned and smiled at the older witch. Hermione bustled in and immediately poured water into the empty cauldron on the stove and tapped it. It began boiling. _I might just have to relent and let Mum teach me some of the more domestic charms_, Ginny thought. Hermione's way of making tea was much faster than GInny's.

"Yes," she said defiantly. "I'll bet you were thrilled to use magic outside of school."

"I still am," Hermione flashed her a grin. "It makes me feel like a grown-up."

Ginny snorted. "Sometimes I think you were born a grown-up," she said. "Don't you ever get tired of being mature?"

"About as often as you get tired of being feisty," Hermione replied. She sat down and hooked her heels around the legs of her chair. Ginny once again marveled at how Ron had managed to loosen up Hermione; even the way she sat was more... relaxed.

"Oh, good, you're here," said Ron.

Speak of the wizard, and he appears. Ginny mentally prepared herself for a mildly disgusting show of affection, but had a rather large surprise when she realized that Ron was looking at her and not Hermione. Ginny had the immediate suspicion that this had something to do with Harry. Of course it did. She recognized the look on his face as a mixture of concern, befuddlement, and exasperation.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked. "Is it about Harry?"

Ginny felt like whenever the three of them were alone together -- which, admittedly, wasn't often -- the main topic was Harry. He was very quiet; Ginny might have expected brooding, but Harry wasn't moping. He wasn't distancing himself from them, either; he'd been a patient shoulder for Ginny to cry on. He'd spent time with all of them. He'd been a support and a comfort through these last months. But something was just... off. And he wasn't talking about it.

"He said... well, he asked if he could have some privacy," Ron said. "Said he needed to think about things, and he could do it at Grimmauld Place, but I knew he really wanted to be here."

Hermione made a little sound in the back of her throat. "I still think that he's uncomfortable grieving... I think he thinks that you lost so much more than he did that he doesn't have a right to show his own pain at losing Fr-Fred."

"I just don't think that's it," Ginny said. It was a reasonable assumption, but Ginny had a feeling that whatever was eating at Harry had something to do with her.

"You need to go talk to him," Ron said firmly. "You're his girlfriend... hex it out of him if you have to. And then if he gets mad, you can just snog him to shut him up."

Ginny chuckled a little, as Ron had meant her to, but she didn't think it was all that funny. Mostly because she knew that while she may be Harry's girlfriend, he'd been distant. He held her hand whenever he could, and he kissed her good morning and good night, and he was affectionate with her. But Ginny remembered the more passionate encounters during their short amount of time before the world fell apart, and she could tell that he was holding back.

And she could hardly tell that to her brother and Hermione. What was she supposed to say? That Harry's main symptom of whatever was eating at him was the fact that his kisses were just kisses? He hadn't once tried to touch her more intimately, and they'd already gone down those roads.

And now Ron was telling her that she needed to go seek him out when he was alone. In a bedroom. Ginny would have jumped at the chance when she'd been fifteen. She'd jump at the chance now, at the age of seventeen, except she wanted Harry to jump at it too.

"Give us some privacy," Ginny said quietly. "For as long as it takes. I'll get it out of him."

For one quivering moment, she thought Ron was about to protest. And she marveled at the fact that Hermione had had such a calming influence on her over-protective older brother -- _not that he's got anything to protect me from_, Ginny thought darkly.

"I'll tell Mum and the others," Ron said finally.

Hermione thrust two fresh cups of tea in Ginny's hands. Ginny felt the warmth seep into her palms, sighed, and made her way up the winding stairs to the very top where Harry sat behind the closed door. She set one mug on the ground, tapped once, and pushed open the door. She bent down and scooped it up again, and edged her way into the room. It suddenly struck her that she was only wearing her nightgown and a flimsy, tattered dressing gown. But it was too late to back away.

"It's me," she said unnecessarily. He was propped against the opposite wall, still in the camp bed. She tried not to notice that he was bare-chested. _Stop ogling him, Ginny, _she scolded herself. He didn't seem very surprised to see her. She handed him his cup; he scooted his legs over so she could sit down.

"Hi," he said.

If it had been any other bloke, Ginny would have thought that the last few months -- the kisses and hand-holding -- were done out of pity. There had, of course, been that unspoken promise that when (she refused to even think the word 'if' -- even now) Harry returned after defeating Voldemort, he would return to her. If it hadn't been Harry, Ginny would've assumed that the distance meant that he didn't want to be with her, but didn't know how to tell her. She'd waited for him, after all.

But this was Harry, and he was too emotionally honest and honorable to kiss her when he didn't mean it. But Ginny would have thought that they would've resumed their prior intimacies, and the fact that Harry did not seem to want to touch her was confusing.

She blinked when she realized that she'd been staring at him without speaking for several minutes. She took a deep breath. "Harry, I--"

"Ginny, I--" he said at the same time.

Her giggle and his chuckle broke the uncomfortable atmosphere. "You go first," he said. Ginny was about to insist that he talk -- that was why she was up here, after all -- but his fingers found hers and laced them together. She stared down at their entwined hands.

"Harry," she said in a small voice. "We're... do you not -- want me, in that way?" Her face was so hot that it felt like it had been lit on fire. A small part of her screamed at her to just shut up. "I mean... sexually." But Ginny was in Gryffindor, and she had the courage to battle Death Eaters and use the word 'sex' in front of her boyfriend.

"_Yes_," the word exploded from Harry with such force and so quickly that Ginny looked straight up at him, despite her embarrassment. His beautiful green eyes were round with shock and sincerity. Ginny managed a weak smile when his cheeks flushed to match hers.

"Well, thats... that's good," she said.

"Ginny," he sighed. "I want you in that way pretty much every hour of every day. But I haven't felt like I've deserved it"--he held up a hand to forestall the vehement denial that sprang to her lips immediately--"don't look at me like that. There's something that I haven't exactly told you. You know that I had to... I had to let Voldemort hit me with the _Avada Kedavra_, right?"

Anxiety bubbled up in her belly. She knew that he hadn't told her everything yet, but that was all right. She simply couldn't imagine having to make the choice he'd made -- walking into the forest and taking the Killing Curse without knowing that he'd survive -- and she respected the fact that he might not want to talk about it. She knew that he'd had a bit of Voldemort's soul in him, and though that made her fantasize about digging up Voldemort's body and murdering him, she hadn't needed to hear it from his lips.

But it seemed that she would, even though the idea of him being forced to almost die because of one monster's evil... it made her feel physically ill.

"I don't know how you're going to react to this," Harry said honestly. His thumb absently stroked across her palm. It tingled at the touch. "But it isn't fair of me to not tell you -- Merlin knows it's been haunting me."

She waited.

He sighed. "When I woke up after Voldemort was defeated"--Ginny hid a smile at his modesty; he would never say straight out that he was the one to do it, and she'd almost been surprised that he'd accepted his Order of Merlin, First Class, at all--"I walked down to the common room. And there you were, and I swear, I felt like I'd been hit in the belly with a Bludger."

Ginny had no idea where this was going. Was this a good thing or a bad thing?

His eyes had gone unfocused. "You just... I'd never seen anything so beautiful," he said simply. "But at the same time, it struck me that I could have died. It's a bloody miracle that I didn't. And the idea that I came so very close to being away from you forever..." his voice trailed away. His voice was pretty raspy, and he appeared to be forcing himself to get every word out. Ginny listened, somewhat shocked. She'd never known Harry to be so transparent. "And," he paused, as though steeling himself. "I didn't say goodbye."

He peeked at her.

He took another deep breath, and his fingers sort of convulsed around hers. "I saw you, and I could've. I just... couldn't. And I don't really have a reason for that, except that I was afraid if I talked to you, I wouldn't be able to do it." Ginny's mind was whirling. This didn't seem too awful to her; it was poignant and it made her heart ache and remember how she'd felt when she'd seen him apparently dead. He rumpled his hair with his free hand and cleared his throat. "I've been just thinking about that. A lot."

"I can't really imagine what you went through," Ginny admitted. She squeezed his hand. "None of us can--"

"Any one of you would have done the same," Harry said firmly.

"But you did," she said. "I'm your girlfriend. I'm allowed to think you're a hero. But what I don't understand is why you were afraid of telling me this." She grimaced. "I know I was a bit annoyed with you because you wanted to lock me up in the Room of Requirement--"

"A bit?" Harry said dryly.

"A bit," she said. "And we don't need to have this discussion again, do we?" she narrowed her eyes at him. He grinned a little and shook his head.

"The message that I'm not to protect you anymore was loud and clear," he said. Ginny smiled approvingly. She'd never resented him for breaking things off with her after Dumbledore had died; she'd hated the fact that he wasn't safe and that he had a dark wizard attempting to kill him at ever opportunity. And watching her parents being interrogated by Death Eaters at Bill's wedding and realizing that they would do anything to get to Harry, including use Ginny as bait, had just reinforced the fact that the break up protected Harry far more than it protected her. But she'd let him know that helping her parents lock her up (or try to, at least) in the Room of Requirement had taken it a bit far.

"Good boy," she said.

"The thing is," he said slowly. "I love you. I'm in love with you. I love you very much." Ginny's breath caught in her throat at the sincerity in his voice and eyes. She felt an overwhelming sense of rightness that made her body tingle. "And I realized it the next morning -- I'm a bit thick, you know, I think I've been in love with you for years. Just..." his voice trailed away and he shrugged. "It was almost too late."

"But it isn't," Ginny whispered. "And I love you too."

It seemed like every coiled muscle in his body relaxed. "Even though I didn't say goodbye?"

Ginny examined her feelings, and realized that she didn't even feel a pang of hurt that he hadn't. It surprised her a little, but she firmly believed that Harry had suffered enough that night -- they all had -- and he didn't need any unnecessary guilt. "I trust how you feel about me," she admitted. And maybe it was for the best that he hadn't. She tried to imagine herself in that situation, and she didn't know if she could've heard the words and not tried to stop him.

And suddenly there was a familiar, wicked gleam in his eyes. "This coming from the witch who sat on my bed and asked if I didn't want her... sexually?" The words were teasing, but the tone in his voice thrilled her. He pulled her closer until she was positioned awkwardly against his chest.

The first touch of his lips was gentle, like the kisses they'd exchanged over the summer. But then he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. She scooted closer until she was situated comfortably in his lap. "It's nice," he fingered a tendril of her hair. "Being like this." He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his wand. "_Colloportus. Silencio_," he muttered.

The already shut door made a squelching sound. Butterflies fluttered in Ginny's stomach. "Feeling a bit sure of yourself, are we?" she asked, and cursed the fact that her voice was shaky.

"I've obviously got something to prove," he replied, sounding more cheerful and lighthearted than he had since before Dumbledore had died. He threw his wand to the side, and took her face in both hands. "I love this. Being able to make you my priority."

Ginny leaned forward and kissed him. It was nothing like the tender kisses; it was passionate, and their tongues dueled for dominance, and she felt it all the way to her toes. Harry held her in a grip so tight that if he'd squeezed just a bit tighter, it would have hurt. Ginny held him just as tightly. The bedclothes between them became a point of frustration. Just as she was about to grab her wand and banish them, Harry rolled her over him and onto her back.

His feet got tangled in his haste to follow, and he nearly fell of the bed. He growled with frustration and kicked them away. If her chest didn't feel quite so tight, she would have laughed. But then she caught sight of his erect penis poking out of the flap in his boxers and her throat was suddenly so dry that she didn't think she could talk, let alone laugh.

He curled up beside her. Ginny turned to him even as he tugged insistently at her dressing gown. She propped herself up on her elbow, fisted her hand in his hair and pulled him down for another sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Then her elbow got stuck in her clothes and she pulled away, and it was her turn to growl. She practically ripped it off herself, and then she was just wearing her night gown.

His eyes were fixed on her breasts; her erect nipples were very distinct through the thin fabric. He stared for what felt like hours, and just when she was about to beg him to just do something, he closed his mouth over her right nipple, nightgown and all.

Ginny stroked his back, and he pushed his hips against her leg, even as he bunched up her gown and slid his warm hand up her right thigh. He paused for a moment, and Ginny whimpered, letting her thighs fall open a little. Gently, almost cautiously, he continued his exploration further until his fingers came to her knickers.

Ginny was very grateful indeed that she'd worn decent knickers. His tongue stopped laving her nipple just as he slid his fingers past the barrier. They tangled in her curls. A whimper escaped her and she felt him grin against her breast. He stroked her folds just once and then withdrew. Ginny might've pulled at his hair in frustration, but then he was gripping the top of her knickers and pulling them down.

She lifted up her bum to help.

He sat up on his heels. He continued to pull the little scrap of lace over her knees, and with the other he almost absentmindedly stroked his penis. Once he'd thrown her knickers on the floor, he lifted her nightgown until it was over her hips, leaving her completely exposed. Dimly, she felt like she ought to be embarrassed, but the look on his face as he stared avidly at her reassured her; desire coiled in her belly.

Just as she was about to reach for his penis, he moved down the camp bed and laid down between her legs. His face was inches away from her; she could feel his hot breath. She blew out a deep breath and rolled her hips, just a little.

And her entire body jerked at the first tentative brush of his tongue against her clitoris. "Ohhhh," she moaned. He did it again, but harder. And then a finger probed at her opening and sunk in. He closed his mouth over her clitoris and suckled on it in the exact way he'd done to her nipple, but this felt more incredible than anything else. He added a second finger, pushing them both inside her. She rocked against his hand and his mouth, only barely aware that the panting and gasping came from her own mouth. And once, when Harry flattened his tongue and curled his fingers at the same time, she squealed.

The pleasure was relentless. It drove her higher and higher until she was bucking her hips and her back was arched of the bed and she had one hand fisted in the sheet and the other in Harry's hair. She watched as his head bobbed between her thighs, and her orgasm built and built until it crashed over her. She slammed her eyes shut. "Harry!"

She was barely aware of her own return to earth, and it surprised her when Harry kissed her on the mouth and she realized that his body was over hers. His penis prodded her belly and, unbelievably, she felt another little flame of desire lick over her body.

She tasted herself on Harry's lips and tongue as he attacked her mouth with his. He thrust against her. He snuck a hand beneath her nightgown to her breast. Her nipple was so sensitive that the pleasure bordered on pain. He adjusted himself against her, and suddenly the base of his penis was rubbing against her clitoris. He arched his back, leaning on one arm. WIth his other hand, he tugged her nightgown up and, with her help, over her head.

Ginny gazed down at their bodies. She could see the head of his penis; a little bead of semen clung to the tip. And then he was rubbing himself against her again, and her eyes rolled back into her head. Every time she stroked Harry's back, or let her hands drift down to clasp his bum, he moaned and shoved against her.

After a few minutes of this, Ginny was growing confused. "Harry," she gasped. "Are you going to do it or what?"

He stilled immediately. He gazed down at her, eyes wide with shock. "Do it?" he said. His voice was made harsh with pleasure. "You mean you -- you want to have sex?"

"Well... yeah," Ginny said. She'd thought that was fairly obvious. Truthfully, she'd been wanting to do this all summer. His fringe hung in his face, and his expression was unreadable.

And then he practically flew from the bed. Ginny lay there, legs spread and totally naked, feeling very confused. "Where's my wand?" he muttered. He knelt down on the floor. After several moments of fumbling and cursing, he got up again.

"If you don't want to--"

"Don't want to?" he said incredulously. He stripped off his boxers; Ginny took a moment to admire the long, lean lines of his body. Her eyes drifted to his penis. It jutted toward her, and Harry absently tugged at his balls while he tapped it with his wand and muttered a spell. He jerked when the charm hit him, eyes widening with surprise. "That made my bits feel weird," he confessed. "And Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"That was a Contraceptive Charm," he informed her. He sank down onto the bed again and crawled over to her. His body covered hers again and he propped himself up on his elbows. He thrust against her. "And I've been hoping for a chance to use it with you for ages."

He bent his head and kissed her. He hooked his left arm under hers. He moved his right hand down to her opening. He played with her clitoris until Ginny gasped and writhed underneath him. He huffed out a breath. "I don't think I'm going to last long," he said ruefully. And then he fitted himself against her opening and slowly pushed his way in.

She felt a minor twinge of discomfort, but it only lasted for about a second, and then Harry was buried to the hilt inside her. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, but he didn't move. Ginny tilted her hips, and a shudder ripped through his entire body and he groaned. He raised his head and looked at her. His eyes were wild and unfocused.

And then he began to press in and out of her. Her inner thighs trembled. He reached up and cradled her head with his hand. He licked her earlobe. "I'm the luckiest wizard alive," he grunted. Ginny raised her knees, and he sank in even deeper than he had before and he groaned loudly in her ear.

"Ginny," he gasped. He rolled his hips, sending a jolt of intense pleasure all through Ginny's body. They found a rhythm that lasted a few moments, but then Harry lost it. He thrust into her again and again, and Ginny could see on his face that he was right on the verge.

She felt absurdly proud as he completely lost control. He held her as close as he could and with each stroke he moaned loudly, and muttered her name and swear words and word of love all at the same time. "I love you," he grunted finally, and his hips jerked against hers, and she felt a new warmth flood inside her. He collapsed on her, kissing her shoulder, and moving gently inside her. She ran her hands up and down his back.

Their breathing gradually calmed. He lifted his head and kissed her tenderly, his tongue caressing hers.

"I can't believe I lost my virginity in Ron's room," he murmured.


	6. The Importance of Being Invisible

_I'm reckless,_ Harry thought. _Reckless and mental._

Early mornings at the Burrow were quiet. Well, more quiet than normal. Harry looked over at Ginny, who stared bleary-eyed down at her morning tea. Waking up before eight was not something that the Weasleys (or Harry, for that matter) were particularly keen on. But it was good to spend time with her without the business of the day intruding, and both of them found it worthwhile, though it took a bit more tea before Ginny was willing to admit it.

Tea, or something else.

This morning, Harry very much wanted _something else._ And even though they were at the Burrow, and technically anyone could walk in at any moment, Harry moved his hand from his leg to her thigh. It tensed beneath his touch and then relaxed as he tickled it, teasing her into opening her legs a little.

"Harry," she said warningly.

"What?" he asked, trying to make it sound as though he had no idea that he'd just moved his hand up an inch higher. He even widened his eyes the way she did when _she_ was trying to tease _him._ Just five days ago, she'd aroused him so swiftly and so completely that he hadn't been able to wait until they got back to his house, and he'd taken her up against the wall outside the Ministry of Magic. _If we can do it ten feet away from the telephone booth, we can do it at the Burrow,_ he reminded himself.

"Don't try to play innocent with me, Potter," she said. But Harry was pleased to note she made no effort whatsoever to stop him. Unbelievably, her desire for him matched his desire for her; generally, they were two foolhardy, randy former Gryffindors together. He gave her thigh a little squeeze.

He leaned toward her. "I've been wondering something, Weasley," he said softly. Lifting his hand, he undid the belt of her dressing gown, letting it fall open to reveal a thin nightgown. His penis, already alert, hardened almost painfully._Oh yes._

"And what's that?" she turned her head, and suddenly their lips were very close. Unable to resist, his other hand stroked her long hair, and he kissed her.

"Are you"--he slipped his hand down to her calf, bunched her nightgown in his fist, and drew it up over her knees--"wearing"--to his delight, she shifted until her legs were open wider--"knickers?"

A sly grin was his only response. That and she twisted her torso until her breasts brushed against him, and with unerring aim, reaching out and gripped his penis through his pajama bottoms. Harry focused on things like breathing while she squeezed the tip and stroked him up and down; he thrust up against her hand. All too soon, she withdrew. Once Harry was able to think straight, he realized this was probably a signal that she wanted him to resume his explorations.

"I don't know if I'm going to be able to do this by hand," he said, trying to sound regretful. "There are all sorts of possibilities for foul play." He kissed the sensitive spot just below her ear; she shuddered. "George could renew his quest to keep me out of your robes--"

"He was never _serious_ about that," she murmured.

"My bits itched for _three days,_" Harry said indignantly, forgetting his mission in the face of some truly bad memories. George's little joke had come just after she'd finished her witch time of the month, and the wait had nearly driven Harry mental. It had been--

She reached inside his pajamas and stroked him with that maddening soft touch she had. His brain turned off and a grunt escaped him. "Didn't you have better things to think about?" she asked him pointedly. "And aren't you the one with the rule? No talking about my brothers while naked?"

"Yes," Harry said dazedly. It was amazing how difficult it was to think when her hand was wrapped around his penis. He forced some of the fog away. "We aren't really naked," he pointed out.

"I might be more naked than you think I am," she whispered. "Weren't you about to find out?"

"Right," he told her. He grabbed his wand off the table and summoned his invisibility cloak (which Ron and George affectionately called his security blanket -- Harry was fine with letting them think he carried it around with him for protection); wrapping it around himself, he ducked under the table. Ginny cast a Silencing Charm around both of them -- _good thinking_ -- and Harry moved so that he knelt between her legs, and her nightgown was over her head.

"Put your feet up on the chair," he told her.

"Feeling bossy today?" she asked, sounding a bit breathless. She scooted until her bum was at the edge of the chair, and then she drew up her legs. And Harry had full view of one of his favorite things to look at in the world. _No knickers._

"I love it when you don't wear knickers," he said happily. She was already glistening, and he used his thumb to spread the moisture around. And then he pressed his mouth directly on her clitoris, causing her to buck her hips. He started out slowly, drawing out every lick and flick of his tongue, while she panted and moaned. After several minutes of trying to drive her mindless with pleasure, he slipped two fingers inside her. She squealed and gripped his hair tightly through her nightgown with two hands.

He knew that she was close to orgasming when her thighs trembled uncontrollably. He alternated suckling at her clitoris and then pressing down hard on it with his tongue until her hips jerked up rhythmically. "Harry, Harry," she moaned. And just as he was sure she was about to climax against his mouth, she twisted away and practically toppled off the chair and joined him under the table.

"Ginny--"

"Quiet," she ordered.

"We're under a table," he pointed out. "How are we going to do this? Just me on top? That won't be very comfortable--"

The words died in his throat as he watched her turn around and give him a coy look over her shoulder. Without asking further questions -- they weren't necessary, really -- Harry tugged his pajama bottoms down until his penis sprang free; with one hand, he lifted her nightgown to expose her bum, and with the other, he stroked himself. The view had only gotten better. She wriggled and made an impatient noise; he chuckled and leaned over to kiss both cheeks.

They'd never done it quite this way before, Harry thought as he moved until his chest was pressed to her back. He'd taken her from behind, of course, but he'd never been on all fours, he'd either been standing up or on his knees. "I like this," he whispered against her ear. Reaching back and gripping himself, he teased her opening with the head of his penis. He was rewarded with a whimper and her pushing back against him.

"Just do it," she moaned.

He adjusted the cloak so that it covered both of them fully and slowly eased himself inside her. As soon as he was fully buried he rolled his hips, groaning. Whether it was the angle, the position, or the location, he was about to climax. She was tight and hot and so wet that when he made rapid little thrusts, they made noises that pushed him even further toward the edge.

She pushed her bum up, urging him to go faster. Her arms were quivering with the effort of holding herself up, and Harry felt no small amount of pride, and he pulled back until only the head was still inside her, and thrust back in. A sound that was the cross between a scream and a moan was forced from her lips. "Like that?" he asked shakily, doing it again. He brushed her nightgown away from the front of her legs, and reached for her clitoris, and rubbed it in time with his thrusts.

"Yes," she breathed. Her back arched and her entire body tensed. Harry pumped his hips faster and, brushing her hair away, planted wet kisses on the side of her neck. Three more strokes and she contracted around him, chanting his name, and went almost limp. He sped up and slammed his eyes shut, breathing harshly. He finished with a shout and immediately slowed his movements.

"I'm so glad you didn't stop," she said softly.

"Why would I stop?" he asked. "I don't think I could've stopped if I wanted to." He moved lazily against her as he softened. The only problem with sex in interesting locations was the fact that after they were done, they both liked to stay as close to each other as possible. "Can we go back up to your room?"

"I think we have to," she said. For some reason she sounded very amused. Harry still had no idea what she was talking about until she pointed. And then he saw Mrs. Weasleys legs as she bustled around the kitchen, starting breakfast. "Don't panic," she said warningly, just as Harry jerked himself out of her. "We'll be fine... I promise."

Harry stuffed himself back in his pajamas. "Thank God for invisibility cloaks," he said, for what felt like the millionth time.


	7. It Started With a Sandwich

28 December 1998

"You really used to fantasize about me?"

His eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. It was a cold winter's night, and they had burrowed together under the covers, for both warmth and intimacy. They'd spent the last hour or so trading secrets and whispering to each other. No one else was in Harry's snug little cottage - Ron had spent the last three days over at Hermione's.

Ginny grinned a little at his surprise. The fact that he'd starred in her first sexual fantasies had intrigued him since she'd first let it slip over ten minutes ago. "Of course I did," she told him for the third time, stroking his side. He was almost naked, except for his boxers, and Ginny had a strong feeling that he would be all the way naked before too long.

"Not just... you know, thinking about me," he said in a husky voice. "But think about me while you...?"

"Uh huh," she said. Was it really such a surprise to him? They'd been sleeping together for a few months already (even if school made it almost impossible to be with him as much as she wanted to), and he had to know how attracted she was to him. "Haven't you... you know, while thinking of me?" she asked, feeling suddenly shy.

"All the time," he answered easily. A smug little smile teased his lips, making her feel less nervous. "But that's me, not you. What--? When--?"

Ginny shrugged, suddenly wishing she hadn't accidentally brought it up. Despite the fact that she was naked in his arms, and he was almost naked, and she could still taste him in her mouth, this conversation suddenly seemed really intimate. And sort of embarrassing. She'd started fantasizing about him from the very beginning, when he certainly hadn't returned her feelings, and had probably been happily wanking thinking about Cho bloody Chang.

Harry did not appear to recognize any change in her mood. His hands moved with firm strokes on her thighs, moving higher. She pulled away.

Undeterred, he followed her. There was a happy gleam in his eyes that made her relax a little, and when he resumed his touching, she opened her legs. Just a little, though. His fingertips skimmed against her curls. "Do I live up to it?" he asked seriously. Her eyes flew to his; there was a hint of vulnerability and insecurity in his voice, that echoed what she was feeling.

"What?" she said blankly.

"I dunno," he shrugged a shoulder, fingers brushing against her sensitive clitoris. His gaze had dropped to the bedclothes, and his brow had furrowed. "I just... was I better in your head?"

"Am _I_ better in _your_ head?" she countered, knowing the answer, but wanting to point out what a stupid question he was asking. His thumb pressed down hard, just as he pushed two fingers up inside her. Ginny briefly considered letting him continue on, obviously thinking he had something to prove, but decided that would be mean. "The reality is... _so_ much better."

He smiled, satisfied. "Good."

"Mm hmm," said Ginny, as he pressed a kiss against her shoulder. Moments passed, and she grew more and more aroused, body relaxing and feeling heavier. He pressed her into the mattress, still using his fingers, and watching her face intently.

"How old were you?" he asked.

"Fourteen," she answered automatically, squeezing his hand with her thighs. There was no room for embarrassment, only arousal. "I saw your chest - remember that night we bumped into each other in the kitchen? At Grimmauld Place?"

He scrunched his face up. "You were eating a sandwich," he said. "It was... very late at night, right?"

"Yeah," she said, surprised and pleased that he'd remembered. "And I thought about that night for... for a very long time. It was one of my favorites."

He pulled the bedclothes back, and stared down at himself dubiously. His chest wasn't broad, but it was perfect. Ginny leaned forward and kissed him there, and then flicked her tongue over his nipples while he made a satisfied sound. His fingers moved with renewed vigor.

"So... what happened in this fantasy?" he asked.

Ginny opened her eyes. He was driving her swiftly to the stage of barely being able to breathe, and had pressed himself against her. At some point, he'd pulled down his boxers; he was firm and hard against her leg. He throbbed in time with her heartbeat. _All right,_ she decided.

"Well..." she began.

Even eating a sandwich could be very sensual for Ginny, who had just barely taken that final step toward full sexual awareness. The lighting in the drafty basement kitchen at Grimmauld place was low and dim. And when Harry stepped out of the shadows, bare chested and barely fifteen, desire kindled in her belly. Instead of remaining oblivious of what that blush creeping over her face meant, his green eyes narrowed slightly.

Her tongue flicked out, moistening her lips.

That was all it took. Harry was fifteen, and his pajama bottoms couldn't hide the sudden bulge. All thoughts of how she was a little scared and worried about her family, marched right out of her head. Instead, her eyes remained fixed on the erection that tented his trousers out in front of him. The fabric shifted and twitched as she watched. Heat pooled between her legs.

Mumbling, from both of them.

But instead of retreating, they came awkwardly together, noses bumping, teeth clicking together. Harry - he'd grown taller - lifted her by the waist and set her on the table. His eyes were unfocused, but burning. His hands wandered over her body, exploring, squeezing, and her breath came out in pants. He groaned when he reached under the waistband of her pajama bottoms and then inside her knickers.

At first she thought he sat down because he was tired. But then he pressed his nose right up against her. She squirmed, a little shocked, as he breathed in deeply. Part of her wanted to move away... but then his hands pulled and tugged, exposing her inch by inch, and she could see the rhythmic motion of his left arm, and had a good idea what he was doing.

And she didn't want to stop.

Still. It the feel of his tongue darting against moist flesh made her jerk and moan. His licks were tentative at first. Hesitant. Her clitoris throbbed as he flicked against it. _More._ Her inner thighs quivered as he got more confident. She rolled her head to the side, watching his arm move as he stroked himself, and widened her legs when she felt one of his fingers probe into her.

Her pajama bottoms drifted all the way off, fluttering to the floor and landing with a soft sound, like a sigh. Her knickers stayed, though, keeping her ankles together. She used them to pull him closer. Suckling, licking, moaning sounds filled her ears. Another finger worked its way up inside her, joining the movement of the first, delicious friction that made her eyes roll up into her head.

He groaned loudly against her flesh, and his movements paused. For a few moments, he rested his head against her thigh, and peeked up at her. She could see the glimmer of his eyes, and the wetness around his mouth. Her hips bucked up of their own accord, wanting to feel his mouth suckling on her clitoris again, wanted to feel his fingers deep up inside her.

She writhed.

He brought his left arm up and used it to hold her lower body down. The kitchen was just well-lit enough for Ginny to see the white fluid on his hand. But then he licked her, and everything receded. The table against her back was no longer hard and uncomfortable. Her eyes were closed, and all she could hear were the sounds of Harry loving her - finally - and the beating of her own heart.

Incoherent sounds of pleasure escaped from her lips. And with each sigh and moan, he moved faster, almost frantically, using his tongue and fingers to drive her higher. His hair was soft as she twisted it up in her fingers, anchoring his head between her thighs.

She screamed when she finally shattered. He didn't even try to shush her; thoughts of her family coming down and walking in on them had fled. His fingertips drew circles on her stomach, sliding up and stroking the undersides of her breasts, and even grazing against her nipples. Ginny closed her eyes, but could still see him, eyes closed in concentration, bobbing up and down, licking her as though he was starving, and she was the best food he'd ever tasted.

Little tremors - aftershocks - made her inner walls contract.

"I guess," he said shakily. Ginny cracked her eyes open. His lips, his mouth, his chin, even the tip of his nose... they glistened, wet. "I guess I don't need those leftovers..."

Ginny slowly relaxed her fierce grip on the sheets. The bedclothes had fallen to the floor long ago, tossed by Harry, who had been more than a little eager to help her live out her fantasy. Tremors of pleasure still went through her body as he moved up her. His hair was wild and in even more disarray than usual - she tended to just about rip it out whenever he went down on her.

"You were wrong about one thing," he said. His lips, chin, and even the tip of his nose was wet, just like she'd imagined. But his eyes were dark and serious, and she spread her legs. He was hard and probing at her entrance.

"What was that?" she asked breathlessly.

He hooked one of her legs under his arm and plunged inside of her, groaning. She leaned up and licked his mouth, tasting herself. His hips moved erratically, and his breath escaped his mouth in harsh pants. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his mouth hung open. His body was shuddering in her tight grip by the time he answered. "I wouldn't -- have -- finished in my hand -- would've done _this._"

Harry finished with a shout, and pulsing heat filled her. He buried his head in her neck, panting, and pressing kisses on her sensitive skin.

"That's why the reality is so much better," said Ginny. "But next time you have to tell me some of yours."

**Ella's Hunt Clue # 5: See? That wasn't hard at all. Now ye shall have yer reward. Argh! (Because one should always have the desire to talk like a pirate.) Yer treasure lies in the place where the SS Wilbanks made their last request before emerging into the world. Clever lad and lass that they be, they sent around a petition to have their demands heard. A rough journey it was, but they be clever little tykes.**


	8. Contrary Canary

May, 1998

Fred's gravestone jutted out of the earth; Ginny placed her palm on it. It was cold and so, so hard to believe that joking, laughing Fred was buried under there. She traced the fresh outline of his name. _Fred Weasley. Beloved son, brother, and partner in crime._ Her eyes burned.

She glanced around quickly to the left and the right -- everyone had wandered away -- and drew her wand. Not very good at drawing, she outlined a small shape on the smooth stone, right at the bottom on the right, where no one could see. Stopping once or twice to swipe angrily at her eyes, she otherwise kept right on with leaving her own small memorial to her brother. And when the air stirred and someone sat beside her, her eyes were too focused on their task to look up.

But she knew who it was, anyway.

"Erm..." said Harry. "That's a nice -- what is it supposed to be, a hat? A pygmy puff?"

Ginny laughed shakily, just like he'd wanted her to. "It's a canary," she said. She leaned back and surveyed her work. It only held the smallest of resemblances to the bird. It really _did_ look more like a hat. A thousand memories flickered across her thoughts, and she wondered how she could possibly explain why she'd felt it necessary to draw a bird on Fred's marker. She shrugged a little, and opened her mouth to tell him that she couldn't really explain--

"That's really fitting," he said. He reached over to brush a strand of hair out of her face and she leaned into his touch. "I think he'd like the Contrary Canary on his gravestone."

Her mouth dropped open. "You know about the Contrary Canary?"

He grinned at her; it transformed his thin face. "Sometimes she cheeps and sometimes she squawks, but she always, always mocks," he said. "I'd never really heard that canaries are particularly skilled with mocking--"

"It was a joke, a character in stories they used to tell me before bed, when I was little," Ginny said in a rush. _How had he known?_

"I know," he said. "And I also know the witch the Contrary Canary was modeled after, and it seems pretty fitting."

She reached out and pushed him a little. Well, she meant to. But it turned out to be more like a caress. For some reason, she had a very warm feeling in her stomach, and all because he'd known that little rhyme. "How in Merlin's name do you know about that?" she asked, because she couldn't help herself. He scooted closer to her and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I asked them about their products," he said. "It was... my fifth year, I think? Fred told me all about the Contrary Canary and how they made the canary creams as a tribute to you."

"And you remembered?" she said, surprised. It seemed like such a small thing to carry with him for several years while he was having to save the world from Voldemort. And this had been before he'd started falling in love with her. She was deeply impressed.

"It's easy to remember even the little things about you," he said. He took a deep breath. "I think it's because I love you so much."

He'd said it before, but it had only been a week since the first time, and Ginny was still getting used to the fact that not only was he safe and alive and no longer Undesirable Number One, but he was in love with her. "I love you so much, too," she said, not caring that she might sound a little silly. They deserved it.

"You know," he said. "I think there's something we can do to make it look less like a hat and more like a canary." He paused, looking suddenly uncertain. "Do you mind if I -- I know it was your thing, but--"

"Please do," she interrupted him. He still babbled a bit when he was nervous.  
He squinted his eyes, staring at the marker. He had his wand out, but didn't say anything. "Talk about dredging things up from deep in my memory," he muttered. Then his face lit up, and he pointed his wand. "Er -- _sunshine, daisies, -- damn _-- something _mellow_--"

"Butter," Ginny told him.

"Right," he said, adjusting his glasses. "_Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this pretty canary yellow!_"

The little picture she'd drawn with her wand turned bright yellow (he must have used a nonverbal spell while he said the fake one). Amazingly enough, it actually did look more like a canary. Harry's fingers threaded through hers just as a few tears slipped out of her eyes.

"I just have one question," he said after a long pause. She was grateful to hear a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Yes?" she said warily.

"At what point do I get to hear you cheep?"

**Author's Note:** _Yes, I know this isn't puffy and it doesn't REALLY belong in this little series of puffy one-shots, but I didn't want to make an entire story for it. This was actually written about a year ago - it was for the livejournal community catchmysnitch (for those of you who know what livejournal is, and love H/G, this is the community for you!), and I just now got around to posting it here._

_I've been busy writing lately, some of you will be happy to know. Also, thanks to everyone who let me know that some loser was attempting to steal my stuff and post it as their own. For those of you who didn't notice, harryswife11 decided that Yellow Submarine "wasn't good enough" and posted the prologue with a few modifications (she made Ginny a cutter). Thankfully, the story has been taken down. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this._


	9. Come Along and Ride This Train

_The first day of Easter holidays, 1999_

"You really think they don't know we're coming?" Ron asked anxiously.

Harry cut him an exasperated look. This was the fifth time his best mate had asked this same question. Today. Harry had lost count how many times Ron had asked over the last week. "How could they possibly know?" Harry forced himself to sound patient. "We only just decided to do this six days ago."

"You know how Hermione is," Ron muttered, glancing around the deserted station in Hogsmeade. "It wouldn't surprise me if she read one of my letters and figured it out. The woman is crazy brilliant—"

"I know," Harry said wearily.

"—and she probably used some sort of… legilimency—"

"Don't you usually have to be looking into someone's eyes for that?" Harry asked. Despite himself, he too looked around. It was seven in the morning on the day that all the Hogwarts students were to return to their homes on the first day of Easter break. Harry and Ron, who wanted to make sure that the Easter holidays began just as quickly as they could manage, had decided to sneak onto the train and surprise their witches._Surprise_ was the key word; even though Harry was slightly less suspicious than Ron, some of the anxiety had rubbed off. But the station looked clear. Harry, who had grown used to the _Daily Prophet_ reporting his every move, was relieved.

"True," Ron conceded, drawing Harry's attention back to the conversation.

"And besides," Harry said, "if the _Prophet_ isn't here, I think we're doing okay."

A whistle pierced the quiet of the morning. Harry jerked at the sound, and stared off in the direction from which the Hogwarts Express would appear. His stomach leaped in excitement. Ginny was almost finished with her seventh year at Hogwarts, and Harry had started counting down the days on September first. Neither one of them had considered breaking up while Ginny attended her last year – they'd spent enough time apart – but a long distance relationship was not the best way to go about things. Not that Harry hadn't seen her, of course. He'd seen her at Quidditch matches, Hogsmeade weekends, the Christmas holidays, and a few special occasions. In fact—

"Remember when _they_ surprised _us_?" Ron said happily.

Harry remembered quite clearly. One very nice day in March, while they'd been sitting in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place eating sandwiches, green flames had kindled in the hearth. Ginny and Hermione had tumbled out, laughing. Seconds later, Ginny had been in his arms. "Yeah," Harry said, grinning. An otherwise boring day had turned into something quite a bit more. "You should've seen the look on your face, mate. You looked like you'd been struck in the back of the head by a Bludger."

"Oh, that's how _I_ looked, was it?" Ron smirked. "Maybe you were looking in the mirror."

"Yeah, because I usually have a hard time telling the two of us apart," Harry said sarcastically.

"We do look a lot alike," Ron replied, lips twitching. "Both of us are spectacled, scrawny gits—"

"Hey!" Harry said. "I am _not_ scrawny." And because it was fun to see the look on Ron's face, he employed his secret weapon. "Why don't you ask your sister what _she_ thinks?" he asked innocently. "I'm sure she'd tell you that I—"

"You win!" Ron said.

Harry chuckled, and glanced up the rail. Squinting, he could just barely make out the scarlet engine appearing slowly out of the mist. Nudging Ron, he said, "Look! It's here!"

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in the very last carriage. Ron had his face pressed up against the window. "The students are coming," he said. His breath fogged the glass.

Harry drummed his fingers against his leg, wishing that he could somehow speed time up. It had been almost two weeks since Ginny had surprised him at Grimmauld Place, and now that he was so close to seeing her again, it just couldn't happen fast enough. _Don't be greedy,_ he told himself sternly.

In all truth, he'd seen her a lot more often than he'd expected. Last summer, he'd prepared himself to only see her at Quidditch matches, Hogsmeade weekends, and the holidays. Unprepared for how much he'd miss her, Harry had spent the month of September giving himself pep talks, and trying to take his mind off it. The second day of October, however, he'd Apparated to Hogsmeade and snuck into Hogwarts using a combination of his knowledge of the secret passages, his invisibility cloak, and the Marauder's Map. Feeling both sheepish and elated, he'd caught Ginny after she finished dinner, and proceeded to spend the next few hours making up for the previous month.

It turned out that the Room of Requirement really did provide one with whatever one required.

"Harry. Harry!"

Fingers snapped in front of his eyes, interrupting his thoughts. "What?" Harry asked in a surly voice.

Ron ignored this. "They're _on the train_!"

Harry sat up straight and pushed his glasses up his nose. "You're sure?"

"No," Ron said slowly. "I'm a complete, blithering idiot who can't recognize my own girlfriend. Or my sister," he added as an afterthought. Because Harry couldn't think of a reply to this, he remained silent, continuing to drum a tune on his leg. Harry thought he should call the song "Wow, I Really Want to See Ginny."

"Would you stop doing that?" Ron said, annoyed.

"No," Harry said shortly.

"Fine," Ron said. Within seconds, he started tapping on his seat. Harry quickly changed the title of his new song (and he was certain it would be a hit amongst loads of blokes) to "Wow, We Really Want to See Our Witches."

With a groan, the train lurched into motion.

"Finally, damn it!" Ron beamed, slamming his hand down on the seat one more time. He reached into his pocket and extracted a small box of some of George's fireworks.

"Are you sure that's the best idea?" Harry asked.

"That's the sixth time you've asked me that," Ron pointed out. "And it's _brilliant._ trust me."

Harry still had some doubts. "Maybe we should—"

But Ron was not to be deterred. Before Harry could even finish his sentence, the fireworks had been lit and tossed out the slightly open door of the compartment. "Ha!" Ron crowed, just as a loud bang went off. Both of them rushed to watch as a sparkly dragon appeared and then raced down the hall.

"Look at the first years!" Harry laughed, as three short kids dove for cover.

"That'll get Hermione's attention," Ron said smugly.

"Yes, but will it get Ginny's?" Harry asked. He could picture her opening her own trunk and lighting off her own batch of fireworks, just to join the revelry.

"_What is going on?!_"

Ron chuckled as Hermione's irate voice thundered down the train.

"She's going to give you detention for sure," Harry informed him, grinning.

"Oh, I'm sure she'll figure out some way to punish me," Ron said smugly. "She'll – look, here she comes!" Ron interrupted himself, nudging Harry out of the way and pressing his face against the glass. "And you don't have to worry, mate, Ginny's with her."

Harry shoved him. "You're hogging the window! I can't see anything!"

"They're almost here anyway, Hermione got the dragon out of the way," Ron said, backing up swiftly and throwing himself down on the bench. Harry followed swiftly, launching himself onto the seat, just as the door of the compartment opened with enough force to rattle the windows.

"What in _Merlin's name_ do you think you're – oh!"

The look on Hermione's face was priceless. The angry, in-charge look slid right off and melted into a blank look of shock. Harry suddenly wished he'd thought to bring a camera. It wasn't often that Ron and Harry got to pull one over her, and it was a damn shame it wouldn't be documented.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice filtered through the open compartment, and Harry's heart skipped a beat. "What's wrong?"

"Don't mind her," Harry found his voice. "She's just trying to figure out a way to punish us, even though we aren't students."

"You – but –" Hermione stuttered.

"Surprise!" Ron said cheerfully.

Hermione staggered forward; she'd been shoved, no doubt, by Ginny. Harry watched with great pleasure as his girlfriend finally appeared and threw herself at him. "You're here! You're here!" she shouted as he tried to catch her. Instead, they both tumbled to the floor.

"I'm here," Harry said, right before he kissed her. She responded with such enthusiasm that Harry quite forgot that they'd landed awkwardly. What did it matter, really, that the seat was now digging into his back? His hand had cupped the back of her head, her tongue was in his mouth, sliding along his, and the sweet smell of her was filling his nostrils.

_Easter holidays last for an entire week,_ he thought blissfully.

Eventually, they broke apart. Her forehead rested against his. "Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," he replied. Unable to resist, he pressed another kiss on her lips. "Were you surprised?"

"Very," Ginny said. Shifting in his arms, she added, "Can we get up now? I'm a little uncomfortable."

They untangled themselves and scrambled up to the seat. Ron and Hermione were still snogging; they'd managed to stay on the bench, although Ron's neck was bent at an awkward angle. Harry thought of clearing his throat loudly and commenting on Ron's wandering hands, but Ginny straddled his lap and all thoughts flew out of his head.

She plucked his glasses off his face and everything went a little blurry.

"Thanks," Harry said, running his hands up and down her thighs. She was wearing a long robe, but he could tell that she was wearing a skirt underneath it. He played with the hem of it. "Easy access?" he asked very, very quietly.

A smug smile crossed her face. "Well…" she leaned closer until her breath mingled with his, "I _did_ know that I was going to see you at some point today." Ginny shifted on his lap, and Harry swallowed hard when her body pressed down on his erection.

He glanced furtively at the hazy blobs that were Ron and Hermione. Even with his glasses off, he could tell that they were too involved with each other to see or care what Harry and Ginny were doing. "I missed you," he said softly, tilting his hips upward.

"I missed you too," she echoed. Harry leaned forward slightly and kissed her again. She sighed against his mouth. It was gentle at first; her lips teased his playfully, and her tongue flicked in and out of his mouth. Goosebumps erupted on his skin when her fingertips grazed the back of his neck and stroked his head.

"I miss being able to kiss you whenever I want," said Harry, when they came up for air again. He trailed kisses along her jaw, working his way to the spot below her ear that he knew, from past exploration, was sensitive. "And I miss being able to sleep a whole night with you next to me."

"Even though we've only done it once?" she asked. The words were teasing, but her breath caught in her throat when he licked her earlobe.

"That's what makes me miss it even more," Harry said honestly. That had been a wonderful night. "I can't even explain it," he told her, leaning back a little so he could see her bright brown eyes. "But I think I got used to you sleeping next to me. I don't like waking up when you aren't there." His cheeks felt a little hot, and he knew he was turning red.

His mild embarrassment swiftly disappeared when Ginny arched against him. This time, when she kissed him it wasn't playful at all. Harry was already aroused – his penis didn't require much encouragement – but his body responded further when she slid her hands behind him and squeezed his bum. Not fully aware of what he was doing (and who was in the compartment with him), Harry yanked at her robe.

A button popped, but Harry didn't care. Instead, he pushed her shirt up to her armpits and cupped her breasts with both hands.

"_Yessss_," Ginny hissed, rocking against him.

Taking this as encouragement, he moved her bra out of the way, needing to feel her soft skin beneath his palms. _Ginny has perfect breasts,_ he thought happily. Her nipples hardened as he stroked them and rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a soft groan.

Harry glanced down. Since she was so close, he could see her almost as well as he could without his glasses. And the view made him even harder. Her breasts were pale next to his hands, and the rosy tips peeked out from between his fingers. Her robes were undone to her waist; they hung off her shoulders. Even as he watched, she worked her hands out from underneath him and undid the rest of the buttons. Her fingers were shaking, and Harry knew that when he finally touched her between her legs, she'd be damp.

"God, Ginny," he groaned.

"Oi!"

Ron's voice pierced through Harry's arousal. Harry jerked his head up. "Shit, I forgot you were still here!" he said. Ginny groaned and buried her head against his neck.

"Obviously," Hermione said breathlessly. "Ron and I are leaving. I've got a compartment up ahead. We'll just—"

"He doesn't need you to write a book about it!" Ron said urgently. "Let's _go_, come _on_, Hermione!"

"You might want to lock the door," Hermione said as Ron pulled her out of the compartment.

As soon as the door shut, Harry fumbled for his wand. He locked the door and – for good measure – added a charm that blanked the window. _I can't believe I forgot they were there,_ Harry thought dizzily. "Ginny, I'm sorry—"

"Shut up, Harry," she said, amused, as she got up off his lap. Her robes came off, and then her shirt and bra. "Let's see," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Should I take off my knickers?"

"No," Harry growled. "I'll do that." He slid to the floor and onto his knees. "That's a great view," he said, looking up. Sliding his hands up her smooth legs, he found her knickers and tugged them down to her knees. Not even bothering to remove her skirt, he lifted himself a little and pressed his face against her.

"Now _that's_ a nice view," she said shyly. "I mean, you know – that – you're—"

Harry leaned back, grinning. "It's okay," he interrupted her stammers. "I like seeing you on your knees in front of me too."

"_God_, Harry," she moaned, fisting her hands in his hair and pulling him toward her. "I'll do that later, I swear, but -- _holy shit!_"

Harry traced her with his tongue and sucked her clitoris into his mouth, groaning against her at the taste. His hand curled around her bum, squeezing, and holding her tightly against him. _God, I've missed this,_ he thought, his trousers growing so tight that he thought they might just rip.

His other hand came up and his fingers found her center. Two of his fingers found their way up into her --_God, I'm jealous_ -- and pumped in and out while he sucked on her clitoris. Wet sounds, along with Ginny's moans, filled the compartment. Every second that went by seemed like an eternity; every cell in Harry's body cried out for relief, for him to take the place of his fingers and fill her wet heat surround his penis not his fingers—

"Fuck, that feels so good," Ginny groaned.

And suddenly Harry was pulling away, rising up onto his feet at the same time his trembling hands fumbled with his trousers. "Sorry, but I can't – I have to – I _need_ you," he tried to explain.

"It's okay, but _hurry,_" she pushed him back onto the bench just as Harry freed himself, shoving his trousers and boxers down to his ankles. She kicked her knickers off the rest of the way and finally -- _finally_ -- she was straddling him again. This time there was nothing in between them.

Harry reached between their bodies and positioned himself. "You're ready," he grunted. It wasn't a question; he could still taste her, and his fingers were glistening with moisture -- _oh, yeah, she's ready._

"Just do it," she ordered.

He pushed into her with absolutely no finesse. "_God_," he groaned, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. She followed him, already moving her hips in a quick, hard rhythm that meant he wasn't going to last long at all. Her lips found his, and her tongue pushed its way into his mouth with the same intensity that he'd pushed his way into her body.

Harry held her tightly against him, moving as much as this position would allow. But there was no doubt who was in control; and she rode him fiercely, Ginny did, and his entire body was tight with the need to keep going, keep moving, keep speeding toward the goal. His hands were roaming her body without Harry consciously directing them. One moment, he was gripping her breasts, then he was guiding her hips to move faster -- _faster, please go faster, fasterrrrrr_ -- and then he pressed his palm right on her—

"Right there, Harry, fuck, right there," she told him. Her breath was coming out in excited little pants that were quickly escalating to screams every time she pushed down.

"Hurry, Ginny," he ordered. Harry could feel his orgasm speeding toward him. "I'm almost – I'm almost—"

But he didn't have to worry. Ginny's hips jerked against him, and he felt her tighten around his penis. A loud groan was forced from him and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, thrusting upward. His head banged against the wall as he came; the pleasure was so intense that it was almost painful, and all Harry could do was hold her tight and let it pass. Her body was trembling as he pressed kisses against her neck, her cheeks, and finally her mouth.

They stayed like that for long time, their bodies still joined together. Ginny collapsed against him, burying her head against his shoulder. Gradually, Harry's breathing evened out, and his mind was once more able to form coherent thoughts.

"That was incredible," he said, stroking her back.

"Mm hmm," she mumbled.

"I think it was the best," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Mm hmm," she mumbled again.

The fact that Ginny obviously wasn't feeling very talkative did not deter Harry. "I hope we keep getting better," he told her. "Although… eventually it might actually kill me."

"Me too," she yawned.

"We should do this on the train more often, I think it helped with the movement," Harry said. They could probably manage at least one more time, right? Maybe they could even sneak on the train next year, too. Although it didn't necessarily have to be the train. "I think we should go hunt down your dad's Ford Anglia, and do it in there, too."

Ginny sighed. "And _I_ think we should take a nap."

Harry grinned a little. "Okay, we can do that," he said.

"I love you," she said sleepily, cuddling closer.

"I love you too," Harry said.

Harry leaned his head back – carefully this time – and closed his eyes. A nap sounded perfect right about now. His limbs were almost completely relaxed, Ginny was drifting off to sleep, and they had hours to go before they reached London. Perhaps they'd even have time to have sex again… maybe even twice more.

A thought struck him.

"Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

"You were serious about the blow job promise, weren't you?"


	10. Memories Are Made of This

14 December 2003

Ginny Potter was not a stranger to exhaustion.

She had grown accustomed to, during her Hogwarts years, to staying up late and waking up early. Not just because she had to study late into the night – which she did, sometimes, though not as often as Hermione did. And also not just because she liked to talk – which she did – with her roommates. Even worrying about the deranged dark wizard bent on enslaving the magical world was not the primary reason for her late nights. It was all of these things combined that had made her Hogwarts experience more exciting and terrifying than restful.

Ginny's life after Hogwarts was pretty much the same. Sure, she didn't have to worry about Voldemort anymore, but the life of a professional Quidditch player was fast-paced and vibrant. There were Quaffles to throw, friends to see, and, most happily of all, a boyfriend – and, eventually, a fiancé, then husband – to spend time with.

She never minded being tired. She got used to it. Sleep was for the dead, right?

And then Ginny had a baby. Suddenly, being tired was not something several cups of tea in the morning could cure. It was a state of being.

"How in the name of Merlin's pants did you manage _seven_ of us?" Ginny stared at her mother, honestly bewildered. At the moment, her small son was tearing through the kitchen, pausing only to throw open all the cupboard doors. There were charms, of course, for keeping him from pulling out everything inside them, but still. James was only a few months past his first birthday, but already he was a little wild man.

"Lots of love, patience, and cups of tea laced with firewhiskey in the afternoon," Molly Weasley answered promptly. "Never more than one cup of special tea, mind you," she added, "but it helped. Especially when the twins were his age."

Ginny chuckled. She glanced around the room her son was currently doing his best to demolish, and felt a wave of nostalgia and fondness wash over her. The kitchen was almost exactly the way she remembered it from her own childhood. Pots and pans scrubbed themselves in the sink that was large enough to be a bathtub. In fact, there was photographic evidence of it being used to bathe a baby or two. Both Hermione and Harry had been thrilled to discover a picture of Ginny and Ron bathing in the kitchen sink, covered in bubbles, and grinning madly.

Now that Ginny thought about it, the entire room was filled with memories. Ginny had had her first time-out in that corner (after calling George a little shit) when she was four years old. And that shelf over there? Percy had sent her flying on top of it in a burst of accidental magic.

Feeling some of her exhaustion slipping away, Ginny turned to smile at her mother. "It was worth it, though, wasn't it?"

"Absolutely," Molly answered promptly.

Two years ago, Ginny would not have thought to ask that question. But now that she was a mother herself, things like that were always on her mind. It was dirty work, being a mother; it was far harder than being a student, or a Quidditch player, or even a member of Dumbledore's Army. There were nappies to change, tears to soothe, temper tantrums to either nip in the bud or just wait for the storm to be over, and long nights with a teething baby.

"It helped that Arthur shared an equal part of the parenting," Molly said. "He was always so good with all of you—"

"He still is," Ginny said loyally.

"Of course he is," Molly smiled fondly.

_CRASH!_

"James!" Ginny gasped, coming to her feet in an instant. The black-haired baby was sitting on his bum, staring in utter bewilderment at the potted plant he had knocked over. Dirt spilled over onto the kitchen floor, and the pot was in pieces. After several seconds of stunned silence, the baby began to wail.

Ginny hurried over and scooped him up into her arms. "Are you all right, my little one?" she crooned. It only took a few moments for her to recognize the cries: James was not hurt, he was hacked off and probably a little frightened of the loud noise. "James, you know that Mummy told you not to break things," she said sternly, bouncing him a little in her arms. Ginny glanced over the top of his messy hair. "Sorry, Mum," she said ruefully.

"Quite all right, dear, the Unbreakable Charm on that old thing must've worn thin," Molly said. Her wand was already out and pointed at the pot.

"No, no, don't worry about that, Mum, I'll fix it," Ginny said feebly, already knowing that her mother would take care of it despite Ginny's protests. Sure enough, even as Ginny spoke, the pot knitted itself back together, the dirt was gathered, and it stood up all by itself.

"There," her mother said.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said again. Turning her attention back to James, she fumbled with her own wand. "Look, James!" she said brightly. Bubbles of all colors erupted in a mad stream out the tip. "Bubbles!"

His screams faded abruptly. "B'ble!" he shouted gleefully, twisting out of her arms. "B'ble! B'ble!"

Ginny set him on the ground, gave his bum a little pat, and watched him clap his hands, trying to catch the bubbles. "Harry's much better at that spell," she confessed, sinking into her chair once more. "Some of them look like animals, and they chase James… Harry does sound effects, and it really gets James laughing like you wouldn't believe."

"Oh, I can believe it," Molly said. "Harry's a very good father."

"He is," Ginny agreed. She knew that she was very fortunate to have Harry as her partner. Whether or not he would make a good father had not crossed her mind when they first began dating. Little James – and any other children she and Harry might have someday – had not even been a whisper in her imagination. Instead, those sun-drenched days had been about light-hearted conversations and kisses. After the war, they had rebuilt their relationship just as they had rebuilt the wizarding world. They had found comfort and hope with each other. And desire.

"And what exactly is making my grown up daughter blush?" Molly interrupted Ginny's thoughts, a knowing smile tilting the corners of her lips.

"Oh, maybe about something that led to _that_ one there," Ginny said, pointing at James. Back when she and Harry were first beginning to explore each other seriously, she'd thought that Molly was skilled at knowing exactly when to interrupt. It seemed like her mother still knew when her children were thinking about sex. "How do you _do_ that?" Ginny asked before she could stop herself. "You always seem to know whenever we have naughty thoughts!"

Molly let out a peal of startled laughter. "Goodness, I hope I don't know every time! Merlin, with seven children, I would _never_ have a moment's peace."

"George says that you have an invisible setting on our family clock," Ginny informed her. "And whenever one of us thinks about sex, it points to it." George had told them that particular theory several years ago, after a long night at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had taken her home that night, and (after an intense snogging and groping session out on the back porch which was, unfortunately, interrupted by her mother's voice telling her to get to bed) had examined the clock himself.

"_There's no spell on it," he whispered, his tone low and fierce. His untidy hair was messier than usual – because she'd run her hands through it – and the front of his trousers still bulged a little. "But maybe she has another one, damn it, like some sort of – of magical chastity belt." There was a tinge of desperation in his voice; this would have been amusing had Ginny not felt exactly the same way. _

"_She might just have her ways," Ginny said dubiously. She trailed a finger over his deflating erection, and then kissed him lightly on the lips. "Don't worry – I'll come see you tomorrow."_

"_If your mother interrupts us at Grimmauld Place, I'm putting it back under the Fidelius Charm," he said darkly._

"Absolutely not," Molly said staunchly. "Who would put that kind of thing on a family clock?"

Ginny hid a smile. In the secret room in George and Ron's shop – the one they'd made them all swear not to tell Molly and Arthur about – there _were_ novelty clocks that had those sort of settings. Instead of telling the time, or even where the family member was, it had things like "wanking," and "foreplay" and "wants to be bound to the bed." Where the twelve should be, it had "having an orgasm." Even though George and Ron would not let Harry and Ginny buy one of these clocks, she'd still seen them around.

"As to how I know, that's an easy answer," Molly told her.

"Oh?" Ginny asked, absentmindedly letting more bubbles escape out of her wand. James shrieked with glee, and their conversation would be uninterrupted for at least another few minutes.

"One," Molly held up a finger, "we used to have charms that alerted us to unbecoming behavior between unmarried couples. We don't have them anymore, of course—"

"But Charlie isn't married," Ginny pointed out.

Molly waved her hand. "Trust me, if Charlie brought a girl home, I'd turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to anything that might happen. But that boy is more interested in dragons…" she let out a beleaguered sigh.

Ginny laughed. "And what's the other reason?"

It was Molly's turn to blush. "All of you look very much like your father."

Blinking, Ginny turned this over in her mind. _What does that have anything to do with—oh!_ Her eyes widened. "You mean we look like _Dad_ when – when he…?"

Her mother let out a giggle that sounded remarkably girlish for someone so matronly. "It's the way your ears go bright red," she said confidingly. "That, and the dazed look in your eyes."

"I'm sorry I asked," Ginny said with great feeling.

Thankfully, James chose that moment to grow bored of his bubbles, and ran at top speed toward his mother. Ginny caught him up and settled him on her lap. "Just be grateful you don't know what Mummy and Gran are talking about, little one," she said, bouncing her knee. He leaned against her shoulder and patted her, letting out a stream of incoherent babble.

"Oh, is that right, James?" Molly asked. "Did you _really_? You're just a fine little wizard in the making, aren't you?"

"He takes after his daddy," Ginny said proudly.

James looked around wildly. "DADA!" he shouted. Then he practically flew out of Ginny's arms, and ran to the back door. "DADA!" he shouted again. One chubby fist knocked on the door.

Ginny exchanged a laughing glance with her mother. "You should see him when Harry comes home from the Ministry. He goes completely mental, it's like watching Ron right before we dig into our Christmas feast." It was true. Ginny loved seeing the two of them together. James simply _adored_ Harry, and the affection returned in equal measure.

It surprised her now to think that she hadn't known that Harry would make an excellent father. She supposed it was inevitable that her husband would examine his lonely childhood and do everything he could to make sure that their son would never feel the way he had. Bereft of parents, and forced to live with the Dursleys, _of course_ Harry would love James unconditionally.

That knowledge had grown inside Ginny right along with James. Every time he'd stroked her belly, or whispered to it, or came home with a toy (the first time that happened, Ginny had only been four months along), she became even more certain that Harry would be a wonderful dad. And when he'd held James for the first time, tears had slipped unabashedly down his face.

Harry didn't complain about changing diapers (even though he scoured spellbooks looking for a charm that would render him unable to smell when James left them a "special delivery"). He didn't mind getting up with James in the middle of the night so Ginny could sleep. And when he came home from work, he was fully prepared to help Ginny in any way he could.

And Ginny knew that he loved pretty much any minute of it. Just a few nights ago she'd overheard a conversation between him and Ron that only solidified this knowledge.

"_It's a great feeling, Ron," Harry said earnestly. Her husband and her brother sat at the kitchen table, drinking ale. Ginny tried to be as quiet as she could, knowing that the closer Hermione drew to her due date, the more pep talks Ron needed. _

"_I'm going to be a horrible father," Ron moaned, dropping his head in his hands. "I can't – I can't even remember to pick my bloody socks off the floor! How'm I supposed t'remember to do everything the baby needs?"_

"_Don't worry about that, the baby will scream until you get it right," Harry said drily. Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her snort. _That_ was certainly true. James was a right little expert at making sure his parents gave him what he needed. _

"_So…" Ron's voice trailed away. "It's a good thing, then? Being a dad?"_

"_No," Harry said sarcastically. "I've been lying to you. Of course it's a good thing, mate. When the healer put James in my arms for the first time… it felt like my wedding day, or the first time I kissed Ginny, or – or the first time I figured out what wanking was, all rolled into one."_

_Ginny bit her tongue. Hard. _The first time he figured out what wanking was?!_ It was all she could do to keep herself from laughing. _

"_Right now all I feel is like someone keeps hitting me in the head with a Bludger," Ron said darkly. "Don't get me wrong—"_

"_I know," Harry said. "I was scared too—"_

"—_I'm completely over the moon—"_

"_But now you have another little witch or wizard on the way, and it changes things," Harry finished for him. "It _does_ change things. But it's a good change. You'll see, as soon as you meet your baby. You'll see you in it, and Hermione. Like James' eyebrows are exactly the same shape as Ginny's, and so are his ears—"_

"_Not to mention, he has your hair," Ron said, beginning to perk up a little. _

"_I'm hoping that since he managed to get your blue eyes, that he got your eyesight as well," Harry said, tipping back in his chair. "It's fun that my child has something in common with my best mate," he admitted. "But you _are_ my wife's older brother, after all."_

_Ginny grinned at that. For years she'd been "Ron's little sister." Now Ron was "Ginny's older brother." _

"_Hopefully, the baby will get Hermione's brains," Harry said wickedly._

"Ginny? Ginny!" Fingers snapped in front of her face, and Ginny was once more in the kitchen at the Burrow. Apparently, her mother had been trying to catch her attention for some time.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said. "I know that was rude of me—"

"Never you mind about that," Molly waved her off. She had James nestled in her lap. "I just had an idea. How would you like it if your father and I took James for a night? We couldn't do it tonight, but how about tomorrow?"

"Take James for a night?" Ginny repeated. She glanced from her small son to her mother. "He'd stay here? At the Burrow? The whole night?" It seemed like such a foreign idea, to have James be apart from them for an entire night. What if he needed them? At the same time, a little part of her started jumping up and down. An entire night alone! Just her and Harry! But he was still so young. "I don't know, Mum…" she said slowly.

"He's a big boy, Ginny," Molly said gently. "He'll be exactly a year and three months tomorrow. James would be just fine with your dad and me." She reached over and patted Ginny's hand. "I remember the first time Bill stayed over at my mum's house. I was a nervous wreck, but he had a _splendid_ time, and he was even younger than James is. By the time you were old enough to have an overnight with your Gran and Granddad Weasley, I was ready to pack all of you off with anyone who would have you."

"Oh, thanks," Ginny said.

Her mother shrugged unrepentantly. "As much as I love my children, your dad is the most important person in my life. It's a _good_ thing for young parents to remind themselves why they love each other so much."

"Is this your way of telling me that Harry and I need a night of shagging?" Ginny asked slyly. It was her little revenge for Molly's comments about Arthur.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Molly said.

Ginny briefly deflated. _Will I ever _ever_ get the best of Mum?_ She shoved this vague satisfaction aside, however, and let herself seriously consider her mother's offer. An entire night, just her and Harry, filled with rest and relaxation and not having to worry about interrupting any sort of festivities!

As much as Ginny loved her son, this sounded like heaven, and she was dead certain that her husband would agree.

Ginny opened her mouth to give her permission—

"KAFFLE!" James shouted happily.

Startled, Ginny looked at him. "Quaffle?" She knew what he was trying to say – she and Harry were determined that their son would be a fine Quidditch player, and James already knew the names for all the balls ("Nitch! Budgie! Kaffle!") – but where was the Quaffle?

To her horror, James was staring at her -- _Look how smart I am, Mummy!_ -- and patting Molly's ample breasts with one chubby hand. "G'an, kaffle!"

A horrified laugh burst out of her before she could stop it.

"Quaffle?" Molly said. "He thinks my bosoms are Quaffles?"

"You could take it as a compliment," Ginny pointed out, shaking with laughter. In her son's defense, her mother's breasts were quite large. "Oh, Mum, are you sure you want him for the night?"

"I think I can manage," Molly said, lips twitching.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

15 December 2003

Ginny could barely contain her excitement, and it was all she could do not to tell Harry the good news as soon as he opened the door the night before. _We're going to have a night to ourselves!_ her mind kept chanting. But she wanted it to be a surprise for Harry, who was sure to be just as thrilled as she.

"Thank you, Mum!" Ginny sang, grabbing James up in her arms, and twirling around while he laughed, his pudgy hands gripping her shirt tightly. "Look, James, it's snowing!" she said excitedly, pointing out the kitchen window of their cottage. "Can you say snow?"

He gave her a coy little smile and shook his head.

Ginny bounced him a little. "Sometimes I get the feeling you understand everything we're saying to you, little one," she told him, grinning. "And you pretend like you don't just to make Mummy and Daddy mental." James chuckled, his blue eyes lit with happiness.

This morning, after her mother had offered to take James for the night in order to give Ginny and Harry a much needed holiday from parenting, Ginny felt lit with renewed energy. She felt more patient with the baby, even when he exhibited the stubborness he got from his father, or the temper he got from her. Even Harry had seemed to sense her mood, and had gotten up late not because he'd overslept, but because he'd laid in bed cuddling with her and talking.

Now it was almost afternoon, and time to get James ready to go to his Gran's.

"Maybe I'll drop you off early," she told him. "Then maybe Mummy will go shopping and buy a present for Daddy," she added, thinking of Lady Lilac's Lingerie. Harry always lit right up whenever he saw one of their purple and silver bags sitting by their nightstand. It had been a while since Ginny had worn matching knickers and bra, let alone lingerie.

On her way upstairs, James still in her arms, she paused at the landing and eyed herself in the mirror. _Still fit,_ she thought with satisfaction. Thanks to a fast metabolism and a love of flying that hadn't abated with childbirth, Ginny was almost as slim as she'd been before getting pregnant with James.

The baby chose just that moment to rest his head on her shoulder and patted her arm, peering at them in the mirror. Ginny kissed the top of his messy little head, and felt a little stab of love. As much as she was excited about having a night alone with Harry, she was going to miss the little wild man. "Better yet," she said, "how about I take you shopping with me? Just the two of us?"

Again, Ginny's newfound reserve of patience served her well, for the next few hours required all she had to give. She didn't blame _James_, of course, who was a baby and who liked to do normal baby things like touch everything he could put his hands on and learn what everything tasted like. No, it was the other shoppers in Diagon Alley, who stared and whispered and pointed at the two of them.

By the time the fiftieth person came up to Ginny and told her they were just _sure_ he was going to grow up to be _just_ as heroic as his father, Ginny was ready to lash out. "I hope he doesn't have to be," Ginny finally said curtly, stopping where she was right outside the lingerie shop. "It's my fondest hope - and my husband's - that our children won't _have_ to learn about bravery the way we did."

"Oh," the stranger said, bewilderment crossing her features. "Well. Of course not, but-"

"If you'll excuse me," Ginny said, "I need to continue with my shopping."

The other witch hurried off, and Ginny stared after her for a moment, then lightly stroked James' cheek. "You're not going to have to be as brave as Daddy was," she told him firmly. "Mummy and Daddy won't let that happen." What people failed to remember was that Harry had been just a baby like James when Voldemort had destroyed his family. It was that loss that had sent Harry down his path, and Ginny knew that the last thing Harry wanted was for his son to have to have the same kind of painful growing up years that Harry had.

Shaking off the sudden gloom, Ginny pasted a determinedly cheerful smile on her face and entered the lingerie shop.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It was close to four in the afternoon by the time James was ready to go. Ginny whirled around his room, throwing everything he could possibly need into the carry-all bag Hermione had given her, feeling the time press down on her. Harry usually arrived home around six; the sooner she left, the sooner she could start getting ready. Today she was going to attend to all the little female rituals that would make Harry's eyes light up. James watched her from his spot on the floor, eyes still groggy with sleep.

"Mummy's going to try to look pretty," she told him, stuffing all of James' stuffed animals into the bag. What if she chose the wrong one to go with him and come bedtime, he screamed? It was better to let her mother have all the options, yes it was.

"Pwetty," he piped up, trying out the new word. "Pwetty, pwetty, pwetty."

"Mummy always looks pretty," said Harry.

Ginny spun around, dropping the bag and reaching for her wand. Her hand grabbed at her empty pocket, even as her moment of panic faded. "Harry! What are you doing home so early?"

Her husband came in and took James up into his arms and kissed every inch of the squirming bundle he could reach. "I got off early, no big deal," he shrugged, glancing her way. "Where's your wand, Gin?"

"Wand?" she asked blankly. "Oh! Right. My wand." Her dreams of making Harry's eyes bulge out of his head as soon as he walked in the door were brutally squashed. "I must have left it here somewhere..." A vague memory of seeing her wand caught in one of the many blankets she'd packed to go with James teased her. "I think I accidentally put it in the bag," she confessed.

He nodded, but didn't say anything, for which Ginny was grateful. Harry tried not to be paranoid, and he wasn't over-bearing, but there were certain measures she had to take to ensure his peace of mind. Having her wand within easy reach at all times was one of the ways Ginny showed him she loved him enough to care for her own safety.

"It looks like you've packed a lot," he pointed out, his glance taking in the messy room. He swallowed and gave a little chuckle. "Is that it then? You've finally come to your senses and you're leaving me?"

"You're a laugh a minute, Harry," she said dryly. "They'll have to pry my cold, dead fingers off of you to get me to let you go."

His deep laugh filled the room, and James laughed with him. "I see you're in a romantic mood tonight, my love."

"Actually," Ginny said, "I am." She resumed packing, though at a more sedate pace. "And if you'd shown up when you were supposed to instead of having that absolute _gall_ to get off early, you would know that. How did you manage _that_, anyway?" Harry _never_ just got off early. The Auror Department always needed him.

"I faked a life-threatening illness," he said. There was a smile on his face, but his brow was knit, and he was staring at the bag. "I'm only joking," he assured her. "I told them I was going home to spend time with my family, and I didn't give them a choice. I didn't want to go in at all, to be honest - Ginny, _why_ are you packing up James' room?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Ginny grinned. "It's nothing to worry about, Harry. Mum's just giving us our Christmas gift a little early, that's all. She's taking James for the night."

"Your mum's taking James?" Harry said blankly.

"Yes," Ginny said. She watched his face carefully, wanting to see the same excitement she felt bloom. "We'll have the entire _night_, Harry. Just the two of us," she beamed. But Harry seemed slow to understand the sheer wonder of her mother's gift.

"_Today?_"

"Yes, Harry, today, hence the packing." Impatience began to bite at her.

"No." His voice was flat.

"What?" It was Ginny's turn for confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I meant exactly what I said," he replied. "I don't want him to stay at the Burrow today."

The way he emphasized the word _today_ made everything clear. Ginny chuckled nervously. "Don't worry about him, Harry," she said soothingly, telling herself not to be impatient with him. "I know he's still just our baby, but Mum will take good care of him. Merlin knows she's had enough experience. James will have a right good time, won't you, James?"

James giggled, but Harry, it seemed, was unconvinced. Instead of being talked around to her point of view, his face was set in mulish lines. Ginny recognized that look of sheer, unbending stubbornness and prepared herself for a battle. "Harry," she said. "I _know_ you worry about him, but it really isn't necessary. Mum and Dad were in the Order of the Phoenix, you know that." _Not that they'll have to protect him from an attack,_ Ginny added silently. "He'll be safe and loved, and it's just for one night!"

"Ginny--"

But Ginny had long experience with these types of arguments, and knew better than to let him get a word in edgewise until she was done. "I want a night alone with you," she said firmly. "We need a night alone together, and Mum just offered us the chance on a golden platter!"

"I don't want it," Harry said implacably.

Stunned, Ginny just stared at him. Her flash of temper fizzled and hurt replaced it. Her mother's words echoed in her head. _As much as I love my children, your father is the most important person in my life._ Oh, Ginny had no doubt that Harry loved her. But his utter refusal to let James spend the night away from them, when he'd be perfectly safe and happy with his grandparents, made her wonder if perhaps Harry had it the other way around.

"Harry, please," she said. "I've been looking forward to this since yesterday. I need..." Her voice trailed away, and she glanced at her son, who was completely oblivious to the tension surrounding him.

"We can do it later--"

"Later _when_?" she demanded. "_Next_ Christmas? The Christmas after that? Or are we not going to have a break until James goes off to Hogwarts?" Ginny hated the fact that she sounded like a spoiled child, but couldn't seem to help herself. All day she'd looked forward to this, and _he didn't want it!_

His cheeks flushed. "I can see there's no point talking to you in the mood you're in," he snapped. "You know what _I've_ been looking forward to all day? Being with my _family._ Both of you. The three of us together. _Today._ But if you need a little break from our son, I--"

"Don't you put that on me, Harry," she pointed her finger at him. "Don't try to make me feel like a bad mother just because I think it's perfectly _safe_ to leave him with the people who raised me."

"Come on, James," Harry turned his back on her and walked toward the door. "You and I can take a walk, and Mummy can have a _break._" Without even looking over his shoulder, he said, "_Accio Ginny's wand!_" Within moments, it had wormed its way out of the bag and zoomed over to him. He caught it and tossed it to her, casting her one last look of irritation -- and hurt? -- before he left.

Ginny's shoulders slumped, and her eyes filled with tears. His footsteps had long faded before she moved. She sank down into the rocking chair and stared moodily out the window. Fighting with Harry never made her feel good, and today was no exception. "I'm _not_ a terrible mother," she said indignantly to the empty room. Her own mother had admitted to shipping her kids out to anyone who would take them. If Molly Weasley didn't have a problem with that, then _she_ shouldn't.

It was still snowing. Ginny could hear faint noises from downstairs -- Harry getting James ready for their walk -- and then the door opened and shut. _Well, this is certainly not how I expected today to turn out,_ she thought, swiping at her damp cheeks. She left James' room, not even bothering to unpack all his things. She could do that later. Better yet, _Harry_ could do that later.

She headed straight for the hearth in the living room, grabbed the floo powder, dropped it on the flames and stuck her head in. "The Burrow!"

Within seconds, her head was whirling, and the homey kitchen came into focus. "Mum! _Mum!_" she shouted. "MUM!"

"No need to shout, dear," Molly said, "I'm right here." She bustled into view, wiping her hands on her apron. "Where's the little lad?"

"He's not coming," Ginny said. A few more tears squeezed out of her eyes. "Harry didn't want him to go today," she added bitterly. "I told him that the Burrow is perfectly safe, but you know him. This was the man who had to put up enough wards around this house to keep a marauding army out before he let me move in. I should have known he wouldn't--"

"Harry doesn't want James to come here?" Molly said, shock plainly evident in her expression. "But--"

"Don't be insulted, Mum," Ginny said. "It's just how Harry is. You know that."

"But... it was his idea," Molly told her.

Ginny's mouth gaped open.

"That's right, he's the one who asked _us_ if we would ever consider watching James for the night," Molly nodded sharply. "Of course, your father and I agreed -- nothing could please us more. And believe me, I know how wearying it can be to be the mother of a toddler, so I understood perfectly when Harry said you might like a night for just yourself."

"But... why didn't you tell me it was his idea?"

"Thought you'd be more apt to agree if it came from me," Molly said. "He felt guilty enough as it is." There was a fond sparkle in her eyes, but Ginny was too bewildered to appreciate the humor. She rubbed the back of her neck, growing more confused by the moment. If Harry had been the one to approach her mother about watching James overnight, then why did he flatly refuse to allow it tonight?

She recalled the peculiar emphasis he'd placed on the word _today_, as though today held some great importance to him. But nothing significant that she could remember had taken place on the fifteenth of December. It wasn't either of their birthdays, nor was it an anniversary of note. Ginny glared at nothing in particular. It obviously had something to do with being a family, otherwise Harry wouldn't have been so adamant about James staying with them.

Frustrated, she thought of all the dates that had to do with their son. Conceived (they thought) on the twenty-first of January; born on the fifteenth of September. _He's exactly fifteen months old today,_ Ginny thought, _but why is that so significant? Harry didn't think fourteen months was that big of a deal. So why--_

Oh.

Ginny completely forgot that she was staring vacant-eyed at her mother with her back half at home and her head at the Burrow, and when she reeled back with surprise, the back of her head collided with the hearth. "Ow!" Ginny cried, adding a few choice words that her mother pretended she didn't hear. "I have to go," she told Molly. "_Shit_," she swore again, but not because she'd hit her head.

_You didn't even let him explain,_ Ginny scolded herself. _If you'd let him talk, now you wouldn't have to apologize._

And Ginny hated apologizing, even to Harry.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It took Ginny all of twenty minutes to prepare, and the bulk of that time was spent alerting her family members that the Potter family was unavailable until tomorrow. The hearth in the kitchen was protected from any untoward interruptions, a simple dinner was baking in the oven, and Ginny was dressed in her absolute favorite pajamas – crimson and red, bulky and comfortable, they were a far cry from the frothy lingerie she'd purchased, but she was cozy and comfortable.

Not to mention, Harry had bought them for her and had given them to her the day they thought they'd made James.

"_Pajamas?" Ginny said, both surprised and touched. The wrapping paper was strewn all over the floor of the living room in their new cottage. She held the pants up, eyeing them critically. They would definitely fit. She ran her fingers over the fabric; it was almost decadently soft. _

"_Put them on," Harry suggested, grinning. He clutched the gift Ginny had given him to mark the occasion of their first night in their new home in his fist: two tickets in the Top Box of the Argentina-Wales Quidditch match, and Ginny didn't think he'd let them go any time soon._

_Unashamed, Ginny stripped off her trousers and shirt and pulled on the new pajamas. Almost immediately, they warmed up. Almost like magic._

"_They've got several charms on them," Harry explained while Ginny gave a little pirouette. "They warm up as soon as you put 'em on," he continued, standing up and tossing the tickets on the coffee table, "and you can put them on right after you get out of the bath; they're water-resistant…" _

"_This is one of the best gifts you've ever given me," Ginny said. "Did Hermione help you?"_

_Harry boomed out a laugh. "You think I don't know how much you value your comfort?" _

"_No, I know you do," Ginny smiled at him. "But I know how much you value your sex, and I never thought you'd give me any pajamas that didn't come from Lady Lilac's Lingerie." Recognizing the glint in his eyes, she took a step backward and wagged her finger at him. "No, no, no," she said playfully. "You're the one who told me to put these on—"_

"_Only because I wanted to take them off you," Harry interrupted easily. He came toward her, but Ginny wasn't quite ready to stop playing. She stepped around their brand new couch, placing it between her and her randy husband._

"_But Harry, these are so cozy and warm," Ginny said, making her voice deliberately husky. She ran her hands down her front, lingering on her breasts. She knew it probably looked ridiculous, since the pajamas – while the most comfortable article of clothing she'd ever put on – were hardly designed for seduction. But she didn't care. And judging by the suddenly fixated way he looked at her, Harry didn't care either. _

"_I'll warm you up," Harry promised. His body tensed, and Ginny's smile widened as she realized what he was going to do. "You promised me we'd do it in every room in the house."_

"_Did I?" Ginny took a step backward. "You'll have to catch me first." And just as he made a flying leap over the couch, she ran for the stairs, shrieking with laughter. Ginny didn't make him run too far, though; instead, she let him catch her on the landing, she was the one who dragged him to the soft carpet; and, when he'd sufficiently warmed her up, she was the one who pulled her pajama bottoms down._

Harry and James burst through the kitchen door, interrupting her reverie, and bringing in a swirl of snow and laughter. "Mama!" James crowed, blue eyes alight with happiness. Harry's eyes, on the other hand, were uncertain. He held James tightly against his chest, and Ginny decided to make him squirm for a bit.

"For shame, Potter," she said sternly. "You know I can't jinx you with your son in your arms."

Evidently, she didn't do a good job at pretending she was still angry, for his shoulders immediately relaxed. He took his eyes off her and glanced around the kitchen. Taking an appreciative sniff, he said, "Dinner smells good, Ginny."

It wasn't the romantic dinner for two that Ginny had envisioned, but it was even better. Once he realized that Ginny was no longer angry, she watched him ease back to the good-natured husband she knew and loved. They would talk later, Ginny knew, and she threw herself whole-heartedly into making the night special for her boys – both of them.

As the evening marched by, James seemed to realize that the attention he was receiving from his parents was somehow special, and he made his best efforts to entertain his two favorite people. When the small baby laughed as he flew around the room on the broom his Uncle Ron had given him the day he was born, Ginny had an idea.

"I have a fun idea, my little man," Ginny said to James, feeling a sense of mischief start to fill her up. "It isn't fair that you're the only one who gets to fly," she continued. "Why don't you ask your daddy if we can all go outside for a nighttime fly?"

Harry eyed her dubiously. "Are you having me on?" he demanded. "Weren't you the one who said he was too young for flying outside at night?"

"That was last week," Ginny said judiciously. "Today he is exactly fifteen months old."

Harry's cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away from her. Ginny did not give up, but kept a steady gaze on him. It was obviously a tender point with him, this reminder that she had not forgotten their earlier quarrel, but Ginny did not want him to forget that they needed to talk.

"How about we all go up on one broom?" Harry suggested finally.

And they did.

Mindful of the fact that James was still just a little boy, Harry flew slowly, and did not go any higher than the trees surrounding their cottage. Ginny held James as tightly as Harry held her. Snow drifted around them; the flakes were large and lazy, and they didn't even need a shield charm to keep them from it. It was just part of the magic of that night. Harry's heartbeat was strong and steady against her back.

"Hold still, James," Ginny murmured, even though their son needed no such warning. He was holding himself almost unnaturally still. At first, she thought he was terrified, and that he might be too young for flying so high. But when she looked down, his little face was just filled with joy.

The sharp ache hit her suddenly, and Ginny drew in a startled breath. Harry maneuvered them in a slow loop around the chimney, and Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. The little body snuggled in front of her, quivering with excitement, was no larger than Harry had been the night Voldemort had destroyed his family. Regret filled her, and she nestled back in Harry's arms, and looked up at the sky.

_I'm sorry, Lily,_ she thought silently. It simply wasn't fair that Lily had never had a chance for more moments like these. She'd had less than a year and a half with her son, and the months when they'd been in hiding must have been terrifying. Surely, though, James and Lily and Harry had had moments like these.

A few tears slipped out of Ginny's eyes. What a terrible choice Lily had had to make. Ginny tightened her grip on James, and her sense of compassion for her mother-in-law grew. It wasn't so much that she thought Lily had feared her own death. Back in the early stages of Ginny's pregnancy, she'd wondered if she'd have the courage it took to die for her son. But now she realized that if her body could serve as a shield for James, she'd do it in a heartbeat. The terrible part would be saying goodbye to James, knowing that she'd never have any more precious moments with him, knowing that she'd never hold him again.

Harry's right hand came to rest on hers, as though he knew what she was thinking and sought to comfort her. Ginny wondered if he was thinking of his father and placing himself in the first James' shoes, just as Ginny was doing with Lily's. His head dropped briefly to her shoulder and she felt him inhale slowly.

"Hold onto James tightly," Harry said in a husky voice. "I'm going to do a barrel roll."

Ginny didn't even bother to argue, just kept her grip on James just as firm as before.

They were upside down when James started laughing. His entire body shook with it, that precious baby belly laugh. It proved contagious. Suddenly, the nostalgic regret dissipated and Ginny giggled. "I think he wants you to do it again," Ginny said. Harry brought them down in a gentle dive, and went into a roll when they were low enough over the grass that Ginny's hair brushed the earth.

James shouted with glee.

They stayed in the air for at least an hour. James, Ginny thought, had gotten his love for flying from both of his parents. And although her tears were gone, she held onto the moment as tightly as she held onto James, because who knew how many moments like this they would have together? The end might come sooner than they hoped, and it was best to hold the joy close to their hearts and never let it go.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Ginny followed behind Harry up the stairs, wanting to see his reaction to the slight change she'd made to James' room. The baby was fast asleep, utterly exhausted by their family adventure. He snored slightly on his father's shoulder, and a patch of drool grew on Harry's shirt.

Harry patted James' back. "He sleeps like his mother," he said fondly. "I don't think he'd wake up if the Hogwarts Express came through his room."

"I heard they were thinking of doing just that," Ginny mused. "Door to door service for the Potter children, that way we don't have to worry about silly things like getting to King's Cross by eleven in the morning."

Harry looked at her over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised. "Children?"

"Dozens," Ginny nodded sharply.

"Ha!" Harry scoffed, pushing James' door open. "I think you – what the _hell_?"

Ginny hid a grin, knowing that he'd noticed the lack of cot in the room. She stood behind him as he stared at the empty spot next to the window.

"Ginny," he said slowly, "Did you pack up James' cot to take to your mother's?"

She swatted him lightly on his arm. "No," she said. "I didn't pack up his _entire_ room, I wasn't _that_ mental—"

"Well, you packed everything else," Harry muttered, earning another swat.

"I didn't want her to lack anything that might keep him happy," Ginny said with great dignity, flushing. Looking back, she had gone a little crazy with packing. His shelves were practically empty, for Merlin's sake! A reluctant chuckle burst out of her.

"So where did his cot go?" Harry sounded genuinely bewildered.

"Here, I'll show you," Ginny tugged on his elbow. This time, she led them. Harry followed her straight to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. She'd placed James' cot next to their bed, close enough so that they could keep a close watch on him for the rest of the night. "It's just for tonight," she said softly.

Their eyes met and held. Harry didn't look away as he had earlier, and Ginny could easily read the emotions in them: gratitude, love, and a little sheepishness for good measure. "Thank you, Ginny," he said quietly.

She could taste the apology she meant to give him, but she held it in. Instead, she tilted her head at the cot. "I thought he could sleep in our room, just for tonight," she said. "Why don't you tuck him in?" As he did so, Ginny turned down the covers on their bed. But instead of climbing in, she joined Harry next to the cot. James was indeed a heavy sleeper; he didn't wake up when his father laid him down, just heaved a little sigh and pursed his lips. His eyelids flickered when Harry laid his hand on his back.

Ginny wrapped her arm around Harry's waist, and rested her own hand on James' head. They stood that way for a while, as their baby slept in a patch of moonlight. "I love you, my wild little man," she said. Then she turned to her husband. "And you. Come on, let's go to bed."

Not even a minute later, they were curled up together under the bedclothes. Harry's warm body pressed against her from behind, and he twined his fingers with hers. Ginny was about to broach the subject of their earlier quarrel, but he surprised her by mentioning it first. "When, uh, when did you figure it out?"

"When Mum said that having James over for the night was your idea," Ginny said simply, twisting her body so that she could look at him. The bedroom was only lit the light of the moon, but she could see the glint of his eyes. "I thought you just didn't want James to be away from us for a night. I didn't know that today… meant something to you."

His thumb stroked the palm of her hand. "I didn't really want to mention it."

"But why?" Ginny asked. "If I'd known—"

"I didn't want to make a big deal of it," Harry flopped over onto his back and covered his eyes with his forearm. "Listen, I know that I can be a paranoid berk sometimes. Like… how it bothers me if you don't have your wand close by you, or if I think that something could hurt you."

"And like how you didn't let me stay the night over at your flat until you'd placed a bunch of wards around it," Ginny added. "Or remember when you thought that crazy fan of mine was going to slip me a love potion?"

"He tried to do that, remember?" Harry said grimly. Ginny wisely didn't say anything; that had happened before they were even married, and it still bothered him. "I just… worry. And I know you have to put up with a lot of that, so I didn't want to tell you. I just wanted to spend time with you and James and try to pretend I'm completely normal. That I don't have any baggage."

Ginny mulled this over. This was a topic that occasionally reared its head, and had done so since the very earliest days of their relationship. Harry's life had been shaped by loss since he was exactly the same age as James. It used to annoy her, but she'd let go of that at Fred's funeral. It was just one of the ways he showed her how much he loved her. He didn't smother her. When she'd played professional Quidditch – which could be a brutal sport, she had to admit – he'd been her staunchest support.

"First of all, most of the time you make me feel cherished," Ginny said softly. "And secondly, I don't think you're a paranoid berk, Harry. I think that you want us to grow old together. But I'm not sure that you being paranoid has anything to do with today."

"Then what was all this about?" Harry sounded confused.

Ginny leaned over him and pressed a kiss on his lips. "I don't know, maybe a lot of things? Like wanting to honor your parents. Or maybe that you've been missing them." She kissed him again, lingering a little longer. "Or maybe you've realized the true horror that was done to you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ginny chose her words with care, and moved even closer to him until she was sprawled half on top of him. "After the war, when you finally told us the truth about you and Voldemort and the prophecy, Mum and I had a talk. She was so _furious_ and kept going on about how evil Voldemort was, and how much he'd stolen from you. I didn't fully understand, not until we had James. I was just happy that you were alive. But now, being a mother, I think I'm beginning to realize how evil he was." Ginny glanced over at James. "Look at how little he is. Think about how much we love him. And then think about how little _you_ were, and how much your parents loved _you._"

Harry's arms wrapped around her, and she felt him sigh. He didn't say anything for a long while. Instead, he stroked her back, and pulled her up tightly against him. "So you don't think I'm completely mental?" he asked finally.

"No more mental than I am," Ginny said.

"Not much of a reassurance." Ginny could hear the grin in his voice, and she snorted.

"I did practically pack up James' entire room for just one little overnight," she said dryly. She drew a little figure eight on Harry's chest lightly with her fingernails. In retaliation, he slipped his hand up her shirt and tickled her back. Suppressing a shiver, Ginny said quietly, "He's going to be fine."

"I know," Harry said. His other hand went up to his forehead, brushing lightly against his scar. Ginny didn't think the gesture was entirely conscious; the scar didn't physically hurt him anymore, but some wounds never really went away.

"We're going to be fine," Harry said, continuing to stroke her back.

"I know," Ginny repeated back at him.

His hand slid a little further south. "You're not wearing any knickers," he said softly.

"I know," Ginny said again. She kissed him then, deeply and softly. His mouth opened under hers, but he let her stay in control of the kiss. She could taste the butterbeer he'd had after they went flying, and it made her a little dizzy.

"We're going to have to be very quiet," Ginny warned, pulling away.

"I know," Harry said. The hand that was still under her shirt slipped around to the front. His fingers found a nipple and squeezed, startling a moan out of her. "Oops," he said. Something in his tone made Ginny think he'd done that on purpose. "We can't have you moaning and screaming," he told her. "You'll wake the baby." He rolled them over and nibbled on her lips. She could feel him fully erect against her hip, and she arched up.

Instead of trying to keep her quiet, Harry seemed intent on making her moan. He cupped her firmly between her legs with no warning whatsoever, and Ginny couldn't hold back a groan.

He shook his head sorrowfully. "This is not going to work."

"Don't you dare tease me, Harry Potter," Ginny said breathlessly. She opened her legs wider and pushed up against his palm.

"I'm not going to tease you," he said. "I'm going to muffle you." His face split into a grin. "Turn over."

Ginny would have laughed had he not chosen just that moment to stroke her with his fingers. Her pajamas made the sensation even more arousing; soft, sensitive flesh was teased with his expert touch. She wallowed in the pleasure, watching his face through half-opened eyes. He pushed her shirt up and sucked her nipple into his mouth, suckling strongly.

Another moan.

"Turn over," he ordered.

Pleasure tingled through her body. It wasn't very often that Harry wanted to be in complete control, and it was always promising. It meant an encounter that was fast and explosive.

Ginny rolled over onto her stomach, and Harry grabbed a pillow and shoved it under her. "Tomorrow night, when the baby's at Mum's, I'm going to torture you," she promised him. "I went to your favorite store today."

He inhaled sharply. "Lady Lilac's?"

"Uh huh," Ginny said. She pressed her face into the mattress when he gave her suddenly bare bum -- _when did he pull my bottoms down?_ -- a little swat. "It's white," she said in a ragged whisper, "and you can see everything through it. I'm going to be wearing it already when you get home from work."

One arm snaked under her and a callused hand cupped her breast. Her body instinctively moved sinuously, pressing her chest even harder against him, and pushed her bum up. His erection was heavy against her, pressed between her cheeks. His head came down. "That's tomorrow," he whispered, "Tonight, it's _my_ turn to torture _you._"

He made good on his word. He shifted his body until he was pressed tightly against her, and the blunt head of his penis kissed her opening. He pushed it in just an inch, and then completely withdrew. Ginny shuddered and arched, and she could feel his other hand underneath the pillow, grinding against her. And still, he didn't push into her all the way.

"Harry," Ginny panted, when he withdrew the head of his penis yet again. "Harry, you've got to—ahhhh."

"Beg me." His voice was a ragged whisper.

She threatened him instead. "If you don't, I'll scream and wake the baby."

He pushed into her hard; at the same time, he squeezed her tightly and lightly bit her shoulder. Ginny had one instant of shock – it _never_ happened this quickly – and she came, biting her own forearm to keep her scream silent.

"_Fuck_, Ginny," Harry groaned in her ear. But Ginny was still coming, her inner muscles clamping down, and every thrust he made just heightened the sensations. Her climax continued as Harry's body kept her tight and motionless against the bed. Their bodies were so close and so entwined that she felt his groin twitch, and she knew he was spurting into her, gripped by his own orgasm.

"Holy shit," Ginny breathed.

He collapsed, his full weight resting on top of her. His heart was racing against her back, and his hips still moved against her.

Luckily, Harry seemed to guess when his weight became too much; he rolled them over until they were in the exact position they were when they first got into bed: nestled together like spoons. Ginny kept her eyes squeezed tightly closed; every once in a while her groin twitched with remembered pleasure.

"That had to be some kind of record," Harry said, awed.

"Three strokes and you're done?" Ginny said sleepily. "I seem to remember that happening quite frequently when we first started doing this."

"Wench," Harry said fondly. "I meant a record for _you._"

"Shhhh," Ginny said. "Don't wake the baby."

He chuckled, but fell silent. His breathing began to deepen, and she knew he wasn't going to be awake much longer.

"Just remember," Ginny said, "that it's my turn to torture you tomorrow."

Ginny fell asleep smiling, with Harry's arms tight around her, one hand still cupping her breast, and their bodies still intimately entwined.


	11. The Secret Life of an Expectant Father

PROLOGUE  
_a little over two years earlier_

The Hog's Head Inn was mercifully devoid of almost any patrons when Harry pushed open the door. A chill winter wind followed him; the shrill whistle of it ended abruptly, and a new sound reached his ears. Normally, this would have had all of his instincts on alert. Half his life had been spent either fighting Voldemort or attending the Auror Academy, and it seemed to Harry that a part of him was always on alert.

But his first sweep of the room with his eyes had already told him what he needed to know. Two red-headed men sat in the furthest booth. One of them was laughing, and the other was holding his head cradled in his hands and moaning every thirty seconds. The only other living being in the room was Aberforth Dumbledore, who was staring at the pair with an interesting blend of amusement and disgust.

"I heard there was an emergency," Harry said, striding forward. "Hey, Ab, could I get a butterbeer? Warm, of course."

Aberforth grunted, and a dusty bottle flew toward Harry with surprising force. He managed to catch it, grinned at Aberforth, and found his way to the booth. "So," he said, flopping down, "_what_ is going on?" Ron was still chuckling, and George grabbed a tall glass that held some sort of thick orange liquid, and slammed it down.

"It's ten in the morning!" Harry said. "Don't you think it might be a little early for a drink?" He cut a look of concern toward Ron. For a year after Fred's death, George had had a little too much fondness for firewhiskey, and it had taken him another six months to pull himself out of the bottle. It wouldn't do for George to tumble back into it, especially now that George's wife was pregnant.

George gave him a withering look out of bleary, red-shot eyes. "It isn't alcohol," he said. "It's a hang-over potion."

"Was here all night," Aberforth grunted, bringing another glass of the orange cure. "Slept on the floor."

"First decent night's sleep that I've had in weeks," George said, dropping his head back in his hands and tugging at his red hair. Ron laughed again, and his brother shot him a baleful look. "Sooner or later, you're going to be in this same exact situation," he spat. "And you will get zero sympathy from me. No. Sympathy."

This only seemed to make Ron laugh even harder. "Not for years and years. And years. We're very careful," he said. Then he turned to Harry and thumped him on the back. "Glad to see you, mate. Think you can help me with this poor sod?"

Harry, who had no idea whatsoever what was going on, looked at his best mate uncertainly. What sort of emergency was this? No one was maimed or hurt. Ron didn't seem particularly concerned with George's behavior. Even Aberforth was more intrigued than anything; the old bartender was eyeing them and wiping down the closest table with a grimy cloth.

"What the hell's going on?" Harry finally asked. A sudden thought struck him. "If you two are _still_ trying to make sure I don't get laid, I'm going to grab that bottle and shove it up your—"

"No, no," Ron stuck up his hands hastily. "Didn't we swear to Ginny we wouldn't try any more tricks? This has nothing to do with you—"

"Good," Harry interrupted peevishly. Ron and George had been known to try all sorts of things to make their sister's sex life difficult. Most of it had been all in good fun – or so they said – but Harry still remembered the pinching boxers quite vividly. That had ended over a year ago when the brothers had inadvertently caused the destruction of the Potters' master bedroom. Ginny, who had just returned from training camp for the Harpies, had been livid. "Because we're married now, and if you don't think we—"

"We know," Ron said earnestly. "And you know we were just pranking you, it was all George's idea—"

"Way to throw me under the Knight Bus," George snarled.

Harry looked at him, startled. George was possibly one of the most good-natured men of Harry's acquaintance. But there was no hint of humor in his brother-in-law's face. There was no glimmer of fun in his eyes. And the tone of his voice was surly. On the other hand, Ron was laughing…

"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked bluntly.

George didn't answer, just chugged his hangover cure.

"Remember that time," Ron started reminiscently, "when we were all at the Burrow for Easter, and Ginny and Hermione came home from Hogwarts? And how we put a charm on your bed so you couldn't get up in the middle of the night?"

"I still maintain that I only had to get up to go to the bathroom," Harry lied through his teeth. That had been one of Ron and George's first successes. Luckily, Easter had come late that year, and the weather had been just warm enough to make outdoors sex possible.

Ron ignored him. "Remember how mad you were that your little plans were foiled?"

Harry maintained a stoic silence.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Now imagine that—"

"Multiplied by a thousand!" George suddenly roared, knocking over his glass and spilling the viscous liquid all over the table. "A thousand million!" A manic light suddenly flared in his eyes. Harry watched, riveted, as George's temperament switched from surly to insane in the blink of an eye. "This fucking – I had no idea—"

"You should've known," Ron said wisely, apparently perfectly capable of understanding George's gibberish. "Remember when Bill was going through this exact same thing."

"I didn't know it would be like this!"

"What the hell?" Harry said weakly. The world had made so much sense this morning, too. It was Sunday. And Sundays meant lazy morning sex. This Sunday hadn't been any different. Yesterday had made sense, too. Ginny had had a playoff game, which meant frantic, explosive sex on the first available flat surface (which, last night, had meant the little table in their entryway). In fact, the entire week had made absolute sense. It wasn't until Pig had tapped on the living room with a note from Ron attached to his leg that things had gone south.

"I'm sorry," George said fervently, staring at Harry intently. "I'm sorry for every single prank. We were just having a laugh, I swear! It was my duty as her brother to at least pretend to put up a token resistance to Ginny's… you know… the fun stuff—"

"_Pretend?_" Harry said indignantly. "Those pinching boxers didn't feel like a pretense!"

George muttered something under his breath. "And now… all that is coming back to haunt me. It's retribution, you see, for the_stupid decisions_ I made in the past."

"You're a lunatic," Ron said reasonably. "It's normal with pregnancy, isn't it?"

"I'll tell you what isn't normal!" the volume of George's voice rose to a shout. "Not having sex for months and months isn't normal! Wanking out in the garden so your wife won't know you're getting a little relief isn't normal!"

George continued on, but Harry's mind had stuttered to a halt. Women couldn't have sex when they were pregnant? A wave of sympathy for George suddenly crashed over him. Babies took nine months from start to finish, didn't they? Maybe it took a little while to figure out a baby was happening, but after that it was hands off?

Harry tried to imagine going almost a year without sex. Cold sweat immediately broke out on his forehead. _Do I really want kids?_ he asked himself. Immediately, he felt a twinge of guilt. Before they got married, he and Ginny had discussed it. Yes, they wanted kids. Not now, perhaps, but eventually, they did want kids.

Brief snippets of remembered conversations floated through his mind. He remembered Fleur going on and on about childbirth and how painful it was, and how unfair it was that Bill hadn't had to deal with the agony. _Well, what's a year without sex?_ he thought indignantly. The thought itself was agonizing. It was probably why he'd never heard anything like this before, Harry reasoned. If husbands knew they couldn't make love to their wives when they were pregnant, the human race would've died out long ago.

Horror struck him. "Your poor dad!" Harry whispered. Ron and George ignored him. But it stuck with him. Harry's father-in-law had gone through this _six times_!

Dazed, Harry looked at George. "George, you have my _deepest_ sympathy." The words came right from his heart.

Ron tossed him a rueful grin. "See?" he turned to George. "This is why we don't talk to Harry about sex. Look at him. That's our sister he's thinking about not having sex with!"

George's head thudded on the table. "Can we please not talk about it anymore? It just makes it worse."

Harry pulled himself together. George was making the ultimate sacrifice – and Harry knew a thing or two about sacrifice – for the sake of progeny. Changing the topic was the least Harry could do to ease his brother-in-law's pain a little. And besides, starting a family (which would likely include just one child) with Ginny was far in the future. Years, possibly. Meanwhile, Harry would make the most of those years. They'd have lots of sex now, and when they had to abstain for the sake of the baby, Harry would be able to pull out all the memories.

They would sustain him.

They would have to.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

There was one word to describe April: _exhausting._ It was this that was truly Ginny's first clue. In the mornings, it was all she could do to drag herself out of bed, thank Merlin that the Harpies hadn't made it to the Quidditch finals this year, and make herself some toast. Afternoons, when they used to be used to visit friends or fly around on her broom, became filled with naps and lounging around on the sofa, listening to the wireless.

There were two words to describe May: _exciting_ and _terrifying_. It was, ironically enough, the second of May when Ginny found out – for sure, for sure – that she was pregnant. It was during an uncomfortably awkward moment during an uncomfortably awkward Ministry event. Kingsley had once again come by to apologize for the ridiculous memorial, and to state that he thought Victoire Weasley's birthday party that afternoon had been much more fun. Harry looked so miserable, Ginny would have taken off all her clothes and danced naked on the table to distract him. Instead, she whispered four little words ("I think I'm pregnant"), and watched what remaining color he had drain slowly away. Funnily enough, it was Ron who managed to get them all away before the press caught wind of it ("After all, I don't want my godson getting trampled," he said); and it was Hermione who brewed the potion that would tell them for sure. It was all Harry and Ginny could do to just stare at each other. It was right about then that the terror and excitement had kicked in.

There were three words to describe June: _sweaty, hungry,_ and _confusing._ It was abominably hot. Harry, who had, for some reason, become a fanatic about seeing to her comfort, had covered their little cottage in cooling charms. But she had to go outside sometimes, didn't she? Especially to track down her husband, who spent an inordinate amount of time in the garden. The hunger wasn't quite as bad as the sweat, although that might have been because Ginny was a Weasley by birth, and the Weasley family had an ancient tradition of enjoying meals. But there were different kinds of hungers; not all of them could be sated with food. Harry, who was generally her partner in this, had been strangely absent. Which led right into _confusing._Ginny had no idea why Harry didn't want to touch her anymore, why he spent so much time in the garden, why – if they _did_seem to be about to make love – he would jump up and declare he was about to embark on some type of home improvement endeavor.

The terror and excitement from May was still with her. The sweat, hunger, and confusion from June stuck around as well. In fact, they all seemed to grow rather than retreat. And Harry – curse the little bugger – hadn't touched her in two months. Clearly, her discomfort was _all his fault._

It was no wonder that almost the whole month of July could be explained in two phrases: _bloody infuriating_, and _murderous rage._

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"She's trying to kill me."

Harry stared at the back of the house, at the door his wife had just slammed and locked. And he had no idea what he'd done this time. His mind reeled, tracing back all of his actions today, trying to find the misstep. He'd left the toilet seat down—check—he'd cleaned the dishes in the sink, rather than letting them sit and smell up the kitchen—check—he'd even picked his dirty socks up off the floor—check.

There was no reason for her to get all shirty with him. In fact, it was him who had all the right in the world to be annoyed, and bloody frustrated. After all, it had been eight weeks of scuttling off to the garden every time he felt that growing desire to make love to Ginny. He'd repainted the nursery, assembled the cot—even though Ginny said it was far too early to begin such preparations—organized the attic, refinished the wood on the banister, and repainted the broom shed.

The next six months just might kill him. There was only so much DIY he could manage. He supposed, though, he could put in extra hours at the Ministry, but he didn't want to. He _wanted_ to be home with his wife.

Six months. Twenty-four weeks. One hundred and sixty-eight days. Four thousand and thirty-two hours.

Harry pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, blotting out the whirling numbers in his mind. How had any of the men in the world _survived_ as long as they had? George had one child. Percy had one, and another on the way. And Bill…_Bill_ had two! And they all seemed so happy about it!

And Ginny's behavior lately was just so…odd. She'd been so _affectionate_ lately, running her fingernails along his scalp and raising goosebumps all over his body, rubbing up against him.

And then today. Today he'd come out of the bathroom to find her standing in the hallway wearing nothing but a flimsy, silky thing that barely covered anything. He'd whimpered and very nearly retreated into the bathroom to take care of things—showers in the Potter household were reaching epic length lately. But Ginny's fingers, walking up his arm and across his shoulder had stopped him.

_"Don't you think it's hot, Harry?"_

Harry swallowed and cleared his throat before answering. "Er…I can do another cooling charm. I'd be happy to take care of that." His mantra of days, although he had stopped counting seconds and minutes because it was far too disturbing to count that high and too hard to remember where he left off, ran through his head.

Her hand fell away from his shoulder and she glared at him. "Cooling charms?"

"Yeah. And I can run and get you some ice cream. Is there a flavor you're particularly craving?"

Her jaw set and she backed away, crossing her arms over her chest. It didn't help Harry at all because the position accented her cleavage. He swallowed thickly and tried not to remember how wonderful the skin at her collarbone tasted. It wouldn't do to get all worked up right now, in the middle of the hallway.

She was quiet for a long time, staring at him in that way she had, and Harry knew he was in trouble.

"Chocolate. I want chocolate. With extra fudge." 

Harry seized the excuse to leave the house and find a little relief in the garden. And Ginny locked him out.

He'd never seen her as a cruel person. True, she could take the piss with the best of them, but she rarely did things that would harm the person she was pranking. But this…_this_ was borderline. Surely, she couldn't know how much he was suffering. Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones that erased all desire for sex from women, but it seemed to only intensify the feelings for Harry.

He slumped to one of the benches he and Neville had built last week in the back of the garden and stared at the house.

Seeing the way her belly was starting to round slightly, feeling the firmness of it against him when they slept only made Harry's body respond all the more to her. And her breasts! They'd grown over the past eight weeks until she'd complained, just the other day, that she needed bigger bras. Harry's eyes seemed drawn to the fleshy mounds that overflowed the lacy cups and strained at her shirts.

Shit.

He was in very big trouble.

Six months. Twenty-four weeks. One hundred and sixty-eight days. Four thousand and thirty-one hours.

Wanking in the garden wasn't nearly satisfying enough. The shower was better, but he couldn't spend hours in there _every_day. His skin was always wrinkled like a prune lately.

He needed to go and get Ginny's chocolate-fudge ice cream, but Harry was far too worked up to concentrate on not sending bits of himself all over England if he Apparated.

"Nothing for it," he huffed. He spun his legs over the bench so that his back was to the house. The bushes behind the bench, surrounding the large tree, would shield his activities from view.

Recalling the way Ginny had looked in the hallway this morning, her skin radiant and her eyes flashing, made his whole body shiver. Quickly, he undid the zipper on his trousers and lowered them just enough to allow his erection relief and escape.

His movements were rough and almost punishing. Perhaps if he didn't enjoy it, he wouldn't need to do it so much.

He hadn't wanked this much since Ginny had gone back to Hogwarts for her final year, leaving Harry to his Auror training courses.

The memories of making love with Ginny came easily to his mind, but they were faint, as if they'd happened years ago, rather than just months. Harry gave a brief huff of annoyance and threw himself into one of them, reliving every movement as his hand continued to stroke.

He came with a grunt of satisfaction that was short-lived. After having shared the real thing for so long with Ginny, his hand was a poor substitute.

Six months. Twenty-four weeks. One hundred and sixty-eight days. Four thousand and thirty-one hours.

"This better be twins," he muttered as he cleaned himself up and kicked dirt over the evidence of his activities. "One girl, one boy, because I'm not doing this again."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry entered the Burrow and resisted the immediate urge to duck behind the sofa. Ginny sat with Molly on the love seat, and by the glare she cast his way, Ginny was _not_ happy to see him. Luckily, he'd gotten quite used to her glaring at him, and he only stumbled a little. Deciding that giving her hello kiss was imprudent – he liked having the full use of all his appendages – he bypassed the two women and headed for the kitchen.

Just as he slid in, he heard Molly say, "Ginny! That was your _husband_!"

The door swung shut, but Harry had a vested interest in figuring out why, exactly, Ginny seemed so angry with him, so he immediately pressed his ear to the door. A burst of laughter behind him, however, made him miss what Ginny said.

"Are you regressing, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry turned to glare at him. George, who stood next to his brother, continued to laugh. "Do you even know what that word means?" He asked acidly. Months of repressed urges and two weeks of Ginny either driving him mental with desire, or simply driving him mental, had made his temper a bit short.

"Yeah, I know what it means," Ron said affably, not rising to the bait. "Do you? Because we used to go around eavesdropping on everyone back in the glory days. And you used to look exactly like that."

"HARRY _WHAT_?"

Molly Weasley's shout blessedly quieted her youngest son.

"Oh, shit, you're in for it now," George said with barely repressed hilarity. "What'd you do? Throw a group of kids from the local orphanage out into the snow?"

"It's July," Harry snapped, straightening. "Too hot for snow." Indeed, it was too hot for pretty much anything. Too hot, even, for Ginny to wear clothes around the house, apparently, except for those damned filmy little sundress things that floated and billowed around her. Shaking his head to clear it, he pressed his ear to the door once more.

Unfortunately, Ginny's voice was not quite as loud as her mother's. Harry got the sense that the two women believed he had done something quite awful, but he couldn't make out what it was. Deciding to let it go for now, as it was liable to drive him insane, he reluctantly decided to give Ron and George his full attention.

This was not difficult to do. Both of them held heaping sandwiches, piled with all sorts of delicious things. "What're you two doing?" Harry asked. "Aren't we eating in half an hour?" He was well aware that most Weasleys had a bottomless pit for a stomach (his own wife included), but this was a bit much.

"Yes, but Audrey's in charge of the main entrée," George said. He took a huge bite and chewed thoughtfully. "We Weasleys will eat anything—"

"But only if it's edible," Ron said.

"ANGELINA!"

All three men winced when Molly yelled.

"I think I'll take one of those," Harry said thoughtfully. _It's better not to know what's going on in the other room,_ he told himself. _Even if they're talking about you. It's just better not to know._ Forcing himself to relax, Harry even tried to hum a little as he made his sandwich. "Nothing is wrong," he muttered under his breath. "Everything is great."

"Keep telling yourself that," Ron snickered.

"HARRY _WHAT_?"

Angelina's shout made Harry drop his entire sandwich on the floor. For a moment, he just stared at it. "On second thought," Harry said wearily, "can I just have some firewhiskey instead?"

"Five second rule," Ron said, picking Harry's sandwich up and taking a bite.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Ron stared down at the travesty. How could one woman destroy so much? The worst part was, Ron knew - _knew_! – that before she'd got her hands on it, it had had the potential to be something truly great. But no. Due to Audrey's meddling, the perfectly good ingredients were a jumbled mess. It could not even be described as _dinner_. Up until Percy had brought Audrey home, Ron thought camp food during the great Horcrux Hunt of '97 was the worst it could get.

But no. This was far, far worse.

A hand clamped on his shoulder. "You're a good friend, Ron," said Harry.

"I am?" Ron asked, startled, his attention ruthlessly drawn away from the abomination on his plate. "I mean… of course I am."

"Any other bloke would be laughing it up," Harry said _sotto voce_, with a nod toward George. George was, indeed, laughing. "But no. You're suffering right along with me."

Ron smiled weakly. "You know me, mate," Ron said. "Your pain is my pain." Surreptitiously, he handed over a tiny flask to Harry. "Drink some more," he advised. To be honest, his best mate didn't look so well. Either he'd eaten more than a few tiny bites of Audrey's food, or he wasn't bearing up at all well under Ginny's anger.

In fact… Ron looked slowly around the table. Ginny was surrounded by the women in the family; all of them were united. All of them glared at Harry as though he were the scum someone accidentally tracked onto a pristine floor. Ron felt like saying something in defense of his best mate, but had no clue what Harry'd done to draw their ire.

"Blimey, mate, what'd you do?"

"It's more what he _hasn't_ done," muttered Angelina.

George leaned over toward them, and gestured toward the women. "You get the feeling we landed ourselves right in the middle of a war?" He made absolutely no effort whatsoever to keep his voice down. The girls, in one motion that _had_ to have been practiced, folded their arms across their chests.

A memory struck Ron, and he momentarily forgot about what was going on. "Remember when we used to play Death Eaters and Aurors?" He pointed at the girls. "Fred would've been impressed with their intimidation tactics."

"This isn't a game, you idiot!" Hermione hissed at him from across the table.

Ron blinked at her, startled. "Now, see here," he said, folding his own arms across his chest. "There's no call to be _rude._That's just mean. I don't call you a blasted know-it-all, do I?"

"Only every day of my life!" Hermione cried.

Ron waved his hand. "But I don't _mean_ it."

His mother intervened, which was just lucky, because Ron had seen Hermione reach for her plate. Not that Ron was opposed to a little food fight – Audrey's dinner didn't serve a higher purpose, such as making its way to Ron's belly, after all – but whenever he threw food at his wife, he damn well knew why he was doing it. Now was not one of those times.

A few minutes passed in blessed silence. Everyone took the time to push food around plates and regroup. Harry turned his back on the girls and took another long gulp of firewhisky. Ron eyed him. "Maybe you should slow down a little, mate," he offered. In truth, Ron didn't blame Harry. Ginny was sitting like a queen on her throne, surrounded by staunch allies, and looking at Harry as though she wanted to lop off his head. Both his heads.

"What's going on? I know the witches are upset, but what'd Harry do?" George asked in a very loud whisper. His voice was mostly serious, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. He was obviously enjoying himself.

Angelina chose to answer him instead. "I have a friend," she said loudly, "whose husband thinks she's ugly when she's pregnant. He thinks she's _fat._ He's so _disgusted_ by her that he won't even touch her."

Ron gaped at her, then gaped at Harry. Harry was slack-jawed and looked mildly disgusted. "What an idiot," Harry said dismissively. Ron agreed whole-heartedly. "She should toss him." He then gave Ginny a look so full of longing and frustration that Ron could feel the tips of his ears start to burn. _Ugh_, he thought, _that's the last thing I need to see._

For some reason, this seemed to take the wind out of Angelina's sails. All of the witches exchanged glances. _And well they should,_ Ron thought. _They all need a stay in the Closed Ward, they do._

"Well, I have a friend whose horror stories about _his_ pregnant wife would turn any man's pubic hair dead white," George said with relish. Ron choked on a laugh. Before their mother could do anything more than swell like a bullfrog, he continued. "My friend's wife locked him out of the house – completely starkers, mind you – for an entire _day._ _And_ she had his wand!"

"Which one?" Ron chuckled.

Harry laughed appreciatively, but everyone else ignored him.

"Well, maybe if your _friend_ hadn't spent all his damn waking hours in the garden—"

"Well, maybe if my _friend's wife_ had been less of a damn raging shrew—"

"Harry spends a lot of his time in the garden, don't you, Harry?" Ginny said suddenly. Ron was glad she'd interrupted George and Angelina. Their tempers were a bit too close to the surface. They were talking about a couple they knew, after all.

"He does?" Hermione said, surprised. "I've never pegged him for a gardener. That's Neville's job."

"Uh," Harry said, quite eloquently in Ron's mind.

"Well, no matter," Hermione said. "No matter how old one is—"

"And Harry's positively ancient," Ron's dad said dryly.

"I just meant that just because Harry wasn't interested in gardening before, doesn't mean that he can't be now," Hermione said stiffly. "I'm sure he'd become quite good at gardening if he worked hard at it. Perhaps he could ask Neville for some pointers, or I'm sure there are plenty of books he could read on the subject."

George and Angelina were now laughing so hard that Ron could not help but think they were a good match indeed. Mental, the pair of them. Fighting one minute, laughing the next.

"I'm sure Harry's always been interested in gardening," George gasped.

"Uh, yeah," Harry said uncomfortably.

"Yeah, he's a real master… gardener," Angelina chortled. "Although he's been watering the wrong flowerbeds lately."

Harry groaned and the _thump_ his head made when it hit the table was quite impressively loud.

"I think a lot of young men go out to the garden rather then brave their pregnant wives," his mum said, glaring quite fiercely at his dad. "It's almost like someone _advised_ them to do it, isn't it? Funnily enough, _my friend's husband_ used to do the same thing."

_Oh shit, Dad's in for it now,_ Ron thought, though why his mum would be that mad over a friend, he had no clue.

"I'm sure he was only interested in a bit of self-preservation, Molly," his dad said soothingly. "I think everyone at the table should be grateful your friend had more than one child."

"Yeah, sure, Dad," Ron said uncertainly.

"Very grateful," Harry said fervently. "Although I think I have a friend who will have only one child—"

"Hey!" Ginny said, sounding deeply injured. "Your friend has always said he wanted a big family!"

"That's before my friend's wife started deliberately torturing him!" Harry cried.

Ron mentally ran down the list of all the friends Harry had who had children. The list was remarkably short, of course. Harry and Ginny were young; they married early and started a family early. _It could be one of the older Aurors,_ Ron mused. _Or! Malfoy got married a few years ago, didn't he? What if it was him?_ Although why Harry would name Malfoy one of his friends, Ron had no idea.

"Maybe if your friend would garden a little less, and spend time in the house a little more, she wouldn't torture him!" Ginny shouted. "A couple of months ago, you wouldn't have called it torture"—she pointed at Harry, and even Ron could see the threat—"you would've said I'm trying to seduce you – which is exactly what I've been trying to do – and you would've been all for it!"

Ron was deeply confused.

Apparently, Harry was feeling exactly the same way.

"I think I'm missing something," Ron and Harry said at exactly the same time.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry's mind whirled as he tried to piece all of this together. The firewhiskey wasn't helping and a dull headache was building at the base of his skull. Maybe it was easier if he tried to figure out this whole friend situation and figure out how it related to him.

"So…your _friend_ has a pregnant wife?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes and gave a firm nod.

"And this _friend_ seems less than interested in…er… He spends a lot of time out in the _garden?_"

George and Angelina were chortling at the end of the table and Ron was watching the whole exchange with a look of almost-pain on his face. It all made this so much harder to unravel in Harry's head, but he tried to concentrate.

"An inordinate amount of time," Ginny clarified.

The pieces were beginning to come together. "Well, perhaps this friend is under the impression that he's been doing the noble, sacrificing thing by staying out in the garden. That it was all for the best since nothing can happen, you know, between your friend and his wife until after the baby comes."

Ginny's glare turned deadly. "Where the _hell_ did you get an idea like that?"

He couldn't help it. Harry looked directly at George who paled under his sister's wrath.

"Uh…" George dodged out of Angelina's way as she reached across the table to swat his head.

"You told him what?"

"Uh…"

"Wait a minute!" Ron stood up, bumping the table with his thighs. "We're talking about sex?"

Molly began to splutter and puff up again, but Harry ignored her scolding of Ron. He could only look at Ginny, plead for her to understand. He was doing the _right thing_ and he was suffering miserably for it.

"And you really thought that…we couldn't?" Ginny asked. She stood slowly and Harry met her half-way across the kitchen.

"I had no clue," he explained. "George said he couldn't when Angelina was pregnant. I just thought…"

The earlier anger on Ginny's face drifted into annoyance and Harry took a chance and reached for her.

"Oh, Harry. Sometimes you can be such a prat. You should know not to listen to any of my brothers."

"Oi!" Ron bumped the table again and began arguing with George.

"You're not angry anymore?"

Ginny thought about it for a minute. "Not really at you, but we'll talk more later."

Harry winced, but pressed on. "And we can really…have sex?" He whispered the last part, afraid to further inflame the heated conversation taking place behind them.

A slow smile spread across her face. "Of course we can, Harry. Why do you think I've been trying to seduce you?"

His whole insides twisted into a knot of pure pleasure and Harry pulled his wife to him. "Hang on!"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

They arrived in their living room after a hasty, unexplained departure from the Burrow and Harry immediately pressed his face to her neck. His lips attacked her and Ginny had to brace herself to keep from tipping over.

"I can't _believe_ you thought we couldn't have sex until after the baby was born!"

Harry emerged from energetically kissing down her chest and blinked at her. "Do you _blame_ me?"

"No," Ginny grumped. "I blame George, and probably Ron a little, but he's mostly clueless, so I'll let him slide this time."

Harry smirked and returned to his task, divesting her quickly of the sundress she'd been wearing.

"Less talking, more involvement."

She chuckled at his demand and pulled his shirt off, knocking his glasses to the floor in the process.

"Oops."

"I'll repair them later," Harry said. He lifted her into his arms and headed for the stairs, only to hesitate and glance back at the sofa. Ginny could read the indecision in his expression. Along with the desperation.

Poor, sacrificing, prat of a man.

No _wonder_ he'd been so out of sorts for weeks. Ginny did feel slightly guilty for how many times she'd tried to entice him lately, but not enough to apologize for it. If Harry had only come to her, they could have been having glorious sex just as much as they always had.

"We can make it to the bedroom, Harry," she said, and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck while whispering things she wanted him to do to her in his ear.

Harry groaned and ran up the steps, jostling her about in his arms. His enthusiasm definitely helped erase a small bit of her annoyance at him.

"You can't imagine…how bloody infuriating…it's been…" he huffed. "Having to see you…prancing about…"

"I wasn't _prancing_ about," Ginny growled. "It's not like I was naked!"

Harry glared at her and tossed her lightly onto their unmade bed. "Ahem!"

Ginny felt her cheeks heat. "All right, there was that one time…"

"And the flimsy little sundresses, the sexy lingerie, the rubbing up against me… I thought I was going to go _mad_."

She laughed and pulled him down onto the bed with her. "We have a lot to make up for."

"Eight weeks," Harry mumbled as he inspected her breasts closely. "Fifty-six days, Ginny."

"It was just as hard for me, Harry," Ginny warned. She rolled them until he was pinned beneath her. Not that he was protesting. "I thought…I thought you didn't _want_ me. That you were disgusted by the way I've gotten fat, and—"

"That's absurd," Harry dismissed immediately. "I'm sorry that you thought it, but…" Some of the urgency of the moment drained away and Harry caressed her baby bump lovingly. "You're beautiful. More beautiful than ever, Gin. And I can't… I don't even know the words to tell you what I feel about you."

Ginny looked down at him and any frustration melted. They'd both been a bit stupid, not talking through things. But it was over now, and they were here, both mostly naked.

"Harry," she whispered, "you know we can have sex now?"

He nodded fervently.

"Then why, in the name of Merlin, are you still wearing your trousers?"

He laughed and struggled to remove them quickly. Ginny helped and they fell together onto the bed, tangling naked limbs together.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Sliding inside Ginny again was heaven. They had to be careful not to crush the baby in their enthusiasm, but Harry decided they were plenty creative enough to manage. And the way she was in his lap now, sitting astride him as he sat on the edge of the bed and used his toes on the carpet to move them drove him crazy.

They rocked together and Harry touched every inch of her he could reach, even caressing the backs of her knees, where she was particularly ticklish, and the shrinking divot of her belly button.

Ginny cried out his name when she climaxed and Harry lay back on the bed, lifting into her at a frantic pace until he released. All of the aggravation and tension fled from him and he lay limp on the bed, staring hazily up at Ginny.

She laughed and ran her hand over his belly. "Good?"

"Bloody fucking amazing," Harry breathed in response. "Best ever."

She laughed louder and leaned down to press a kiss to his chest. "That's just because you've been deprived for so long. But we still have _weeks_ to make up for, you know."

Harry grinned up at the ceiling. "I'm going to need a sandwich."

Ginny laughed and moved curl next to him. She laid her head down on his shoulder. "Me too. Audrey's cooking is—"

"It makes you feel sad for the food," Harry finished. "That's what Ron said. He suggested we have a funeral for it, rather than eat it."

She snorted and traced a circle on his chest. "I'm going to need a sandwich, as well."

They both lay motionless until Ginny nudged his side. "Harry, I _need_ a sandwich."

He huffed and sat up on his elbow. "And I suppose you think I should get it for you?"

Her sly smile made him laugh. "I _am_ carrying your child. It's a lot of work, you know."

Harry leaned over and kissed her, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. "I think I can manage to cobble together something."

"And a bowl of chocolate fudge ice cream for afters," Ginny commanded.

Harry pinned her wrists to the pillow above her head and ghosted his finger along the sides of her breasts, making Ginny writhe beneath him. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Sex!" she cried. "Have lots and lots of sex with me."

He couldn't help but laugh. "And, now that I know we _can_ make love, we can have lots of babies."

"A few," Ginny corrected. "But definitely more than one."

He kissed her one last time. "I'll get the food; you get ready for round two."

"I'll be right here," Ginny promised.

Harry heaved himself out of bed and grinned back at her as he walked out, completely naked.

"Aren't you going to get dressed, even?" Ginny called. "What if Ron floos? We did leave the dinner rather abruptly."

"He can piss off," Harry called back over his shoulder. "Him and George both!"


End file.
